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“ One silent, prolonged clasp of her daughter’s little figure, one light kiss on 
the pretty lips.” (yee page 13) 



JESSICA TRENT’S 


INHERITANCE 


BY 

EVELYN RAYMOND 

AUTHOR OF 

“Jessica Trent,” “Jessica The Heiress,” “Breakneck Farm,” etc. 



PHILADELPHIA 

DAVID McKAY, PUBLISHER 

6io South Washington Square 




LieKARY of congress! 
Two Copies Kecotvoii 

MAB 231908 

vopyriifni tnwy 

Af^ }Z 



Copyright, 1907, by David McKay* 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER PAaS 

I. Jessica Begins a Long Journey 9 

II. In the Tourist Car 20 

III. The Long Journey Ends 30 

IV. In the Ancient Mansion 40 

V. Buster takes a City Trail 53 

VI. Jessica’s First Girl Friend 65 

VII. Ephraim takes Home the Bundle 76 

VIII. Morning Talks and Interruptions 87 

IX. “Laylocks” 98 

X. Learning Life 108 

XI. Letters and Changes 119 

XII. Meeting and Parting 129 

XIII. Jessica Enters School 141 

XIV. How TPiE First Day Ended 152 

XV. A Text FROM Goethe 165 

XVI. The Something which Happened 179 

XVH. Reconciliation and Revelation 191 

XVIII. A Telling Valedictory 203 

XIX. The Dream and THE Reality 213 




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7. 





JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


CHAPTER I. 

JESSICA BEGINS A LONG JOURNEY. 

‘‘O mother! How can I bear it? How can I go?’' 
cried Jessica Trent, clinging fast to the slender, black- 
robed figure standing a little apart on the platform of the 
railway station. 

“ Bravely and hopefully, my darling, as befits the 
daughter of Cassius Trent. Eagerly, I trust, as one who 
goes to finish his life work ; ” answered the almost heart- 
broken mother, the joy of whose existence would vanish 
with that outgoing eastern train. 

“ But I may come home again next year, mother 
dearest ? Say I may come then ! ” pleaded the girl. 

‘‘ If it seems best,” answered Gabriella Trent, tenderly 
stroking the fair cheek which seemed to have grown 
thinner and whiter during these last days before this 
parting. 

“Next year? Why, my suz! You won’t much more 
than get there by that time, child alive. Three thousand 
miles is pretty consid’able of a step, seems if,” com- 

9 


10 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


merited a voice which tried to be as cheerful as it was 
loud. But the words ended with a sob; that ‘‘three 
thousand miles,” which her own fancy had pictured quite 
breaking down the composure of Aunt Sally Benton, 
who had come with the rest of the Sobrante party to 
see Jessica Trent off for the Atlantic coast. 

“ Blow my stripes ! If I ever knew there were so many 
folks all agog for travelin’! Uneasiest crowd ’t ever 
I see an’ noisiest. Well, captain, I hope they’ll get 
talked out ’fore sleeping time comes. If a body can 
sleep aboard a train of cars. Give me a good ship now 
— then you sing! Here, you fool! What you jostlin’ 
into me for ? Think this whole platform belongs to you, 
just because you’re one the know-nothin’ towerists?” 
cried Samson, the mighty herder and one-time sailor, 
as an anxious “ tourist ” bumped an armful of luggage 
against him. 

A big crowd it certainly was. Mainly a happy and 
eager one as well ; its winter’s outing and sight-seeing 
over, and home-going at hand. A few, indeed, were 
sad. Those who had come to California seeking health 
for some beloved one and failing to find it; leaving the 
helpless one to take his last sleep in that sunny land, 
or to carry him eastward to die under native skies. 

But amid all the bustle and haste the group from So- 
brante was quiet and separate, only Aunt Sally and 
Samson now and then breaking out into exclamations to 
relieve their overwrought emotions, and thereby attract- 
ing more attention than Mrs. Trent quite enjoyed. 

Indeed, she would have preferred to keep these last 
moments to herself and Jessica alone, but could not. 


JESSICA BEGINS A LONG JOUENEY. H 

All the “ boys ** who could possibly be spared from the 
ranch had come to Los Angeles to see their little “ Cap- 
tain depart ; although John Benton, the carpenter, em- 
phatically declared: 

“ It’s all a downright mistake. As if our * Lady Jess * 
didn’t know more now than any ‘finished’ boardin’ 
school miss could even guess at. Figures ? Huh ! What 
does she need more ’n to add up a few wages now an’ 
again, and she’s a likely head at that already. Sent 
’way otf to New York after an education that she could 
get right here in Californy if her mother’d only think 
so. I don’t hold with no such unnatural separations, I 
don’t.” 

As to the girl herself, it seemed to all these devoted 
henchmen that she had grown suddenly older, graver, 
more dignified, almost careworn. On that very last day 
of all, when she had made a detailed visit to, and inspec- 
tion of, every part of the big ranch, she had done so with 
a quiet, critical interest quite contrary to her usual 
careless gayety. 

“ This paddock needs attention, ‘ boy.’ You mustn’t 
let things go to ruin while I’m away nor expect mother to 
look after them,” she had warned one ranchman, in a 
tone he had never heard her use before. Also, she had 
gone over his books with the man who now “ plucked ” 
the ostriches, whose feathers were such an important 
factor in the family income, and finding his accounts 
slightly incorrect had reprimanded him sharply. 

It had been altogether another Jessica during these last 
days; but all felt her altered manner was due wholly 
to the grief of her home-leaving; and John Benton was 


12 


JESSICA TEENT’S INHEKITANCE. 


not the only one of the devoted “ boys ” who consid- 
ered her departure a mistake. 

However, mistake or not, it was now at hand. A 
distant whistle sounded. The southern San Diego train 
was coming in, the outgoing overland express stood wait- 
ing on the rails before the platform, and by one impulse 
the whole Sobrante party grouped about the girl for 
a final kiss or hand-shake. To each and all of them 
she represented the best of life. 

“ If anybody harms or tries to harm a hair of your 
curly yellow head, my Lady Jess, just you telegrapht 
me to once an' I'll take the trail eastward, lickety-cut I " 
cried George Cromarty, with a suspicious moisture in 
his usually merry eyes. 

** I — I've got a brother yender, in the State o' Maine. 
Like's not I'll be takin' a trip that way myself, little 
captain, if I find Sobrante gets too lonesome," said Joe, 
the smith. 

Be sure you keep that bottle of picra right side up, 
just the way I fixed it in your satchel, an' take a dose 
if you feel a mite car sick, or homesick, or " 

“ Any other kind of sick ! " interrupted John Benton, 
coolly pushing Aunt Sally aside, that he might get hold 
of Jessica himself. 

There's dried peach turnovers in that basket an' 
some my hen chicken's best hard-boiled eggs in Mr. 
Hale's suit case ! " almost screamed Mrs. Benton as the 
whole party moved forward toward the train. There's 
a jar of picked-off roast quail and — Good-by, Jessie 
Trent! Good-by! Don't take no sass from nobody and 
do, I beg of you, do keep — ^your stockin's — mended; 


JESSICA BEGINS A LONG JOURNEY. 13 

Oh I my stars an* garters! Oh! my! my suz!” wailed 
the poor woman, as the girl she so dearly loved was 
swept away from her without even one parting hug. 

But Mrs. Trent, to whom this farewell meant more 
than to any of them, had now no word to say. One 
silent, prolonged clasp of her daughter*s little figure, 
one light kiss on the pretty lips, and — Jessica was 
gone! 

The dying rumble of the overland seemed a knell of 
all her happiness and for a moment, as she stood with 
closed eyes trying to collect herself, she had a reckless 
impulse to board the next outgoing train and follow 
on her darling’s trail.” Then somebody touched her 
arm and Ninian Sharp was saying in tones that tried 
to be cheerful and failed: 

** Come, dear madam. Our girl has put you into my 
especial care and the first thing on the docket is din- 
ner. It was a poor breakfast any of us made and I, for 
one, am hungry. Come on, boys. It’s the Westminster 
— for all of us. Here? Ready, every one? This car 
then for you and we’ll meet you there. Come, Aunt 
Sally. Eh? What?” 

For as the one-time reporter of the Lancet, and now 
manager of the Sobrante, hailed a carriage to con- 
vey Mrs. Trent and Mrs. Benton hotel-ward, the latter 
fell into a tragic attitude and wildly waved her “ reti- 
cule ” eastward, whither Jessica’s train had gone, and as 
wildly thrust her free hand skyward, exclaiming: 

“ I’d ought to be kicked by cripples ! I certainly had ! 
If I ain’t the foolishest, forgettin’est woman ’twixt the 
two oceans ! An’ it’s too late now. Oh ! my suz a-me ! ” 


14 : 


JESSICA TEENT’S inheritance. 


Mr. Ninian laughed, and was more grateful to Aunt 
Sally just then than he had ever been before. Her 
evident, if comical, distress interrupted sadder thoughts 
and he promptly demanded, again : 

** Well, what's wrong now, neighbor? ” 

** Shouldn't think you, nor no other sensible person 
M want to go * neighborin' ' me, a body that can't keep 
her wits about her no longer 'n what I can. Gabriella 
Trent, I've clean gone, or gone an' clean forgot, that 
pink-and-white patchwork-quilt I've been settin' up 
nights to get ready for Jessie to take with her on the 
cars, to sleep in ! Now — what do you say to that ! " 

The dramatic dismay on the good woman's counte- 
nance sent Mr. Sharp into a roar of laughter which, this 
time, was wholly unfeigned, and even brought a smile 
of amusement to Mrs. Trent's pale face. The picture 
her fancy evoked of pretty, fair-haired Jessica, bundled 
in the patchwork quilt on board a luxurious “ sleeper " 
was so absurd that she forgot, for the moment, other and 
graver matters. 

‘‘No wonder, dear, with all the things you did and 
looked after, so that we might both leave home — no 
wonder you forgot. It was very kind of you to take 
so much trouble for the child, but she'll not really need 
the quilt. The beds are well fitted on the sleepers, and 
Mr. Hale will care for her as if she were his own. Come. 
We mustn't keep Mr. Ninian waiting and after dinner 
he wants me to meet one or two business men. About 
the mine, you know ; " explained Gabriella, entering the 
carriage, whither Aunt Sally clumsily followed. 

Fortunately, that big-hearted creature could always 


JESSICA BEGINS A LONG JOURNEY. 


15 


find a way out ” of most difficulties, and she promptly 
settled the quilt question, saying: 

“ Well, if she didn’t get it for a keepsake gift, it’s 
hern all the same and she shall have it a-Christmas, and 
you needn’t touch to tell me she shan’t. Even if I be 
to ‘ Boston,’ come that day, an’ I have to badger the very 
life out of my son John to get him to send it to her then. 
But dinner, Gabrieli’! I don’t feel as if I could eat 
a single bite. Do you, yourself, honey ? ” 

This time Ninian felt as if he could shake her. He 
knew that it would be small appetite, indeed, Mrs. 
Trent would bring even to that fine menu he meant to 
lay before her, and here was thoughtless Aunt Sally 
almost intimating that dining at all would, to-day, be 
an indecency. So there was more real feeling than 
appeared in his rejoinder: 

“ Look here, Mrs. Benton ! I wager that with all your 
present ' suffering ’ you’ll yet be able to make a good 
square meal. One, maybe, that it’ll tax my pocket-book 
to pay for ! ” 

Hoity-toity, young man ! Who’s asked you to pay 
for my victuals ? I didn’t ; and more’n that it’s my intent 
and cal’lation to pay spot cash not only for what I eat 
but what Gabrielly does, too, and ’twon’t be my fault 
if she don’t get urged to fair stuff herself. So there.” 

“Good enough. Aunt Sally! You’re a— a brick!” 
retorted this irreverent young man, having succeeded in 
his efforts at diversion and fully satisfied. 

“ No, I ain’t. I’m a decent human womanbody, that 
knows when she’s sassed at an’ when she isn’t. And 
you needn’t think you’re the only creatur’ livin’ can look 


16 


JESSICA trei^t’s inheritance. 


after Gabriella Trent and them that's dear to her. But 
— ^you can’t help bein’ what you are — a man!** The 
infinite scorn which Mrs. Benton threw into that one 
word tickled the ex-reporter into another gale of laughter, 
during which the carriage arrived at the hotel entrance 
and the group of Sobrante boys ” waiting there. 

The sound of it didn’t please them. Not in the least. 
Their own countenances wore an expression befitting a 
funeral, and the mirth depicted on Ninian Sharp’s de- 
clared him what they had often felt him to be — a stranger 
and alien at Sobrante. It wasn’t his “ little Captain ” 
that had gone and left them desolate. It was their own, 
idolized “ Lady Jess ” in whom he had no right nor 
parcel, even though he had so fully won her love and 
confidence. 

“ Well ! I’ve my opinion of a man that can laugh — to- 
day — after losing Sunny Face ! ” growled Samson under 
his breath. 

Light weight ! Light weight, in his head. I always 
said so,” added John Benton, solemn as an owl or — 
as when he was attempting to lead the Sunday music 
at Sobrante. 

In one glance at their stern faces Ninian Sharp com- 
prehended what was in their minds, and set himself to 
undo any false impression he had given. That, despite 
their growls, they liked him he was perfectly sure; also, 
that though they did indeed sorely feel the loss of the 
girl they adored they were still human enough to enjoy 
their present outing in the ‘‘ City of the Angels,” and — 
a good dinner! 

Handing the ladies over to the care of an obsequious 


JESSICA BEGINS A LONG JOUENEY. 17 

clerk, he proceeded to line up the ranchmen and to 
usher them into the big dining-room, with its long array 
of neatly-spread tables, and toward that corner of it 
which the head waiter indicated. 

1 Inwardly he enjoyed that brief march from the door 
( to the chairs, each '' boy '' assuming an air of I-do-this- 
! sort-of-thing-every-day, don't-you-know, and each dis- 
playing an awkwardness quite unknown at quiet 
Sobrante. However, once in their places, and he acting 
as interpreter of the menu spread before them, they for- 
got themselves and awaited the feast with scant thought 
for anything beyond it. 

Till, just as Mr. Sharp was rising to rejoin Mrs. 
Trent and Aunt Sally in another room, he bethought 
himself to ‘‘ count noses ” and found himself one nose 
short. One empty chair faced him, one fine old presence 
was missing: 

Hello, here ! Whereas ‘ Forty-niner ? ’ Didn’t he 
come with you from the station ? ” 

The ranchmen stared at him and at each other; then 
said John Benton, gravely: 

1 remember now, he didn’t. Plaguyest proud old 
chap ever handled a shotgun. Wouldn’t be beholden 
to anybody for even one dinner. Well ! He’s had expe- 
rience of Los Angeles an’ ought to know his bearings. 
Might ha’ stepped round to that hospital he’s forever 
talking about, or to that old crony tavern-keeper’s o’ 
his’n. But he’ll turn up before train starts for Marion 
and home. Couldn’t keep him off Sobrante ranch though 
you set the dogs on him. Thinks none of us, that’s a 
mite younger ’n him, has got sense enough to run things 

2 


18 JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 

without his everlasting poke-nose thrust in. Lady Jess, 
she was pleased to tell him she’d made him * Superin- 
tendent' of the whole shooting-match an' that was one 
time our ‘ Captain ' made a little mistake. But he’s 
sort of touchy like and if he gets too top-lofty we can 
easy set him down a peg. I’d like some butter, waiter; 
and I’d like enough to see, this time." 

So saying, the carpenter cast a casual glance around, 
as if to convey to all spectators the fact that he was 
perfectly familiar with hotel tables and the manner of 
dining thereat. The glance included the young mine 
manager, but this time that gentleman’s sense of humor 
was not touched. A vague uneasiness stirred within him, 
and it was his ardent hope that when the home-return- 
ing party took the train for Marion the old sharpshooter 
would rejoin them. 

“ Mrs. Trent will be grieved if he forsakes Sobrante 
now that Jessica is gone. The old man is ‘ touchy ,' as 
the boys say; and he has never quite forgiven his old 
mates for that temporary doubt of his honesty. The 
‘ house ' will be lonely, indeed, if neither he nor the 
little ‘ Captain ' goes in and out of it. Yes, I hope he’ll 
be on hand; and till that time I’ll not mention him to 
the lady of the ranch." 

However, when — dinner past and business transacted 
— the Sobrante household gathered at the station, en route 
for home, old Ephraim Marsh was still absent from his 
rightful place; and to Mrs. Trent’s anxious exclamation: 

“ Why ‘ Forty-niner ’ hasn’t come yet ! We can’t pos- 
sibly go and leave him behind! Does anybody know 
where he is ? " there was no reply save the warning 


JESSICA BEGINS A LONG JOUKNEY. 


19 


whistle of the locomotive and the conductor’s hoarse com- 
mand : “ All aboard 1 ” 

“ Till Aunt Sally fancied a solution, crying : 

** My suz I I believe he’s gone an’ broke another 
leg!” 


CHAPTER IL 


IN THE TOURIST CAR. 

For a time after the train pulled out from the station 
at Los Angeles, Jessica Trent saw nothing for the mist 
of tears which blurred her eyes; save that framed in 
that mist was the sad, beautiful face of her mother. How 
pale it had been! Yet how quiet the dear voice bidding 
her be worthy ** of that dead father, whose repre- 
sentative she must be. For his sake she was to be 
educated. For his sake, to carry out his high ideals, she 
had had to leave her home and learn life.’' 

“ That was it, more than books, my mother said. 
‘ Life.’ As if there were not the best sort of life at dear 
Sobrante ! ” she murmured, fancying the loud chug- 
chug ” of the train would cover her voice. 

To her surprise it had not. For Mr. Hale answered as 
if she had spoken aloud to him : 

“ Suppose you begin to learn it right now and here, 
J my little maid. There are dozens of people in this car 
and each one is very much alive. See that odd old lady in 
the second section beyond ours. She seems to be in 
trouble of some sort and is quite alone. She’s bobbed 
under her seat a half-dozen times already, yet comes up 
empty-handed every time. You might ask her if you can 
help.” 

For Mr. Hale was wise enough to know that the best 
20 


m THE TOURIST CAR. 


21 


and surest way of curing one’s own discontent is by re- 
lieving that of somebody else. 

For once Jessica was not inspired by the idea of 
helping somebody. She was far more inclined to sit 
still in her comfortable place and think about things it 
were better she should forget — just for a little time. 
Sobrante, little Ned and Luis, Buster her beloved mount, 
the glorious garden behind the ‘‘house” — Oh! to think 
each mile she journeyed, each turn of those ceaseless 
wheels, carried her further and further away! 

“ Now, dear ! I’m really afraid the poor old soul will 
hurt herself and she’s rung for the porter times without 
end, yet he doesn’t come. Will you, or shall I ? ” 

Indeed, Mr. Hale had already half-risen and only de- 
layed to offer his services because he knew it better for 
Jessica to be roused from her brooding. Fortunately, 
her good breeding conquered her reluctance and, a 
moment later, guiding herself along the aisle of the 
swaying car, she reached the old lady’s side and 
asked : 

“Beg pardon, madam, but have you lost something? 
Can I help you look for it ? ” 

The traveler rose so suddenly from her stooping pos- 
ture that her stiff, old-fashioned bonnet slipped to the back 
of her neck and imparted a wild, rakish effect to her pe- 
culiar attire. The bonnet was so big and deep, of that 
shape known as “poke,” and the face it framed was so 
wizened and small that Jessica could think of nothing 
but some fairy-tale witch. 

“ Oh ! but Sissy, me dear ! Sure ’tis the kind child 
you are ! Arrah musha ! But I’ve lost me fine new gum 


22 JESSICA TREITT’S IKHERITAl^CE. 

shoes, what Barney, me son, gave me this very day what- 
ever. ‘With your rubbers and umberell, mother,’ says 
he, ‘sure you’ll be makin’ the trip in fine style, and be 
all forehanded again ’ the bad sort of weather you’ll be 
meetin’ th’ other side this big counthry,’ says he. And 
now I’ve lost them entire, and the umberell — Here ’tis. 
Now ain’t that a fine one, Sissy dear?” 

“Why, yes. I guess so. I don’t know much about 
umbrellas we need them so seldom in California. But 
the rubbers — I’ll look under the seat. I can, easier than 
you. I’m young — smaller, I mean.” 

“ Not so much smaller, me dear, though younger by 
some fifty-odd year I’ve no doubt. Bless your bonny 
face! Found them ye have. Thank you, me child, and 
wait — ^here’s a reward for your goodness, be sure. Sit 
by till you eat it. ’Twould do me old heart good, so 
being it aches like a grumblin’ tooth the now. Leavin’ 
Barney and the nice wife and the bairns, as I have. 
Crossin’ this big counthry all by my lone ; and after that 
the ocean; an’ all that long way just to look upon old 
Ireland once more and them in it I hold so dear. Bar- 
ney’s but one; in Ireland are three. One is a nun and 
cannot; one is a priest and will not; and one is a wife 
and must not come over to me in this purty land of 
Ameriky. Was ever in old Ireland, me dear?” 

Almost unconsciously Jessica had obeyed the old lady’s 
invitation to share the wide seat with herself and had 
smilingly accepted the half of a mint drop which her new 
acquaintance offered. 

“ Eat it slow and it’ll last you a long time, me dear. 
I always carry a few sweeties in my pocket for the chil- 


IN THE TOURIST CAR. 


23 


dher ; but mayhap 'twould do no harm were you to have 
the other bit, seein's you was so good as to help an 
old body.” 

So saying, and with a smile that softened the rugged 
old face, Barney’s mother carefully deposited the second 
half of the mint on Jessica’s knee. 

“ Thank you. It is very nice,” said the girl, smiling 
herself at thought of Ned’s disgust in being offered but 
one piece of candy, and that with such an air of gen- 
erosity. 

You’re a fair lookin’ little maid, me dear, an’ what 
might your name be ? ” 

Jessica Trent.” 

And your home, lassie ? Where’s that at ? ” queried 
this stranger with friendly curiosity. And be you, too, 
travelin’ by your lone in these steam cars? Why for 
and where to? Sure, if so be, and our roads lie together 
a bit we might bear one another company. ’Twould do 
me old heart good to keep your bonny face alongside 
till the pain of this partin’ from Barney eases up a trifle. 
A good lad, is he, and forehanded enough. Heaven pros- 
per him ! Free with the gold to pay the toll of my 
journey — Whisht, alanna! I’ve five hundred dollars 
sewed in me petticoat! Mind that, Jessica Trent, and 
mintion it to none ! ” 

The last information was given in a sibilant whisper, 
that might have been heard by other ears than Jessica’s, 
and was to her so wonderful that she stared in aston- 
ishment. This plainly-dressed old lady carrying so much 
money? Who would have dreamed it? 

‘‘ Me own name is Dalia Mary Moriarty. Me son 


24 


JESSICA teent’s Inheritance. 


Barney, he come to Ameriky when but a tiny bairn, along 
with Dennis me man. To Californy Dennis went, to a 
place called Riverside, an’ a gardener by trade went 
into oranges an’ olives. The blessin’ of Heaven was on 
him an’ he prospered, even as Barney himself has done. 
But ’twas not till Dennis stepped into another world, the 
world beyant this, me dear, that I left Connemara 
an’ follyed here. A nice town, ’tis to be sure, but not 
like Ireland. There’s no land that ever I see can match 
old Ireland for richness an’ greenness, me dear. Here 
ill Californy ’tis all the talk of ' irrigatin’,’ ‘ irrigatin’ ! ' 
Nought grows without that costly ‘ irrigatin’,’ but in me 
own true land the water is given with the crops by the 
same free Hand above. Sure, I’ll be glad to get me home 
to a spot where I’ll be let toss out a dipper of water with- 
out bein’ bid : ‘ Don’t waste it, mother ! Remember the 
garden ! ’ As if I was ever let to forget it ! ” The old 
lady paused for breath, then added : “ But ’tis kind they 
was, each and ivery one. Now, all about your own self, 
me dear, if so be there’s none waitin’ you to leave me an’ 
tend them.” 

Jessica turned her head and saw that Mr. Hale had 
settled himself for a nap, so replied: 

Mr. Hale has gone to sleep so he will not need me for 
a time. He is the lawyer gentleman who is taking me 
across the continent to my mother’s cousin in New York. 
I am to live with her till I am educated enough to go 
back to Sobrante ranch, my home. My father is dead. 
My mother is the most beautiful gentlewoman in — in the 
world, I guess. I have the dearest little brother Ned — 
Edward, his real name is. Besides him, we have a 


IN THE TOUKIST CAR. 


25 


little adopted one, Luis Maria Manuel Alessandro Gar- 
cia, and his father is dead too.” 

“ Saints save us ! So will the bairn be soon if he has 
to shoulder that great name ! Sounds like some them 
old Spaniard folkses that crop up, now an’ again, round 
Riverside way! But go on, me dear. Tis most inter- 
estin’ to hear tell of your folks, and so be as that you’re 
travelin’ to that same city of Ne’ York, where I take 
ship for home, we’ll be pleasin’ company for one another, 
so we will.” 

Jessica was not so sure of that. By the jolting of the 
car the new gum shoes had again fallen to the floor and 
disappeared beneath the seat; and again she was bidden, 
rather peremptorily to: 

Seek them, child ! seek them quick ! If we should 
come to one them meal-stations, an’ they not in hand, 
however could I leave the car ? ” 

Overshoes were articles the little Californian had rarely 
seen and never owned and, glancing out of window at 
the sunny landscape, she exclaimed: 

“ Why, what can you want of two pairs of shoes on 
your feet at one time? Besides, it’s past the rainy 
season and ” 

“ Tut, child ! Would have me neglect the last gift of 
me Barney son? Out of this car I steps not at all with- 
out both me umbrell an’ me gum shoes. Meal-stations, 
or whatever. Mind that! An’ ’tis them same what give 
the only bit of exercise possible on these week-long 
journeys, you know. ‘ Get out at every stoppin’ place, 
mother, an’ stretch your tired legs with a tramp up an’ 
down them station platforms,’ says me boy, Barney.” 


26 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


Jessica once more restored the overshoes and for 
the comfort of both suggested that they be tied fast to 
the old lady’s wrist by a string. Also, she began to feel 
that a whole week of this companion’s society would be 
hard to endure, despite the certain friendliness of Mrs. 
Moriarty. Fortunately, just then, a whistle sounded and 
the train began to slow up at a station. This roused 
Mr. Hale to come forward and, with a courteous bow to 
the old lady, bid Jessica: 

** Come, dear. We stop here long enough to take on 
water; and I’ll show you some interesting things about 
this great overland train.” 

Already the novelty of her surroundings had banished, 
for the time, the homesickness of Jessica’s heart. Every- 
thing was interesting ” indeed ; from the great water 
tank with its canvas pipe for filling the engine-boiler, 
to the crowded baggage cars. As the stop was for 
several minutes, nearly everybody left the carriages, to 
pace swiftly up and down for the relief of seat-weary 
muscles, or to enter the small dining-room to snatch a 
hasty lunch. The place was already packed with hungry 
humanity and passing its window, Mr. Hale compla- 
cently remarked: 

Blessing on Aunt Sally and her fine cooking ! As 
soon as the train moves on again we’ll sample her basket. 
The food will be good for a day or so but after that we, 
too, will have to trust to meal-stations, except on those 
stretches of the road where a dining-car is attached. 
Now, let’s look at the great engine, and make acquain- 
tance, if we can, with the skillful engineer who holds 
our lives in his hands. A moment’s carelessness on his 


IN THE TOURIST OAR. 


27 


part means great danger to us, and his faithfulness is 
worth far greater reward than it ever attains. Another 
bit for your memory book: a single engine is run but a 
comparatively short part of our long journey. Coming 
to California, I learned that we had changed engines 
just fourteen times. Those, yonder, are the tourist-cars; 
less luxurious than the Pullman we travel in and cheaper. 
For the benefit of the many who cannot afford first- 
class. By the way, it would be a nice plan to enter the 
last end of the train and make our way forward, from 
car to car, till we reach our own seats in the ‘ Arizona * 
— as our sleeper is called.” 

So they did; and Jessica thought she had never seen 
anything so wonderful as this traveling disclosed. Es- 
pecially was she interested in the “ tourist ” carriages ; 
for until now she had associated that word with the 
wealthy, rather impertinent persons who made southern 
California a winter amusement ground and had none 
too much respect for the rights of residents whose 
ranches they visited. One such group, she well re- 
membered, had driven over Sobrante as if it had been 
a public park, or with even greater freedom, since its 
temporarily absent mistress returned to find her garden 
despoiled of its floral treasures. 

Tourist ” now began to stand for other things, in 
this young traveler’s mind. For weary mothers, cook- 
ing scant messes for their fretful babies upon the great 
stove in the corner of the car; for bare seats, some- 
times heaped with all sorts of household belongings; 
for, indeed, a glimpse of that poverty to which the strict 
economies of Sobrante seemed actual luxury. 


28 


JESSICA TREKT’S IKHERITAHCE. 


** Why, how different it is from our place in the 
* Arizona ! * I never, never, saw so many children ! 
How they do cry ! How hot and tired the mothers 
look! Oh! can't I do something for somebody?" cried 
the girl, actually distressed by the discomfort about 
her. 

“ I wouldn't interfere, dear. They might not like it. 
Besides, it's not so bad as this all the time. We're only 
beginning the long trip. After a little, things adjust 
themselves. People become accustomed to their cramped 
surroundings and acquainted with one another. By the 
time we reach the other side the continent, here and in 
our own car, we will seem like one big family — so 
friendly we shall grow, and so many mutually interesting 
things we shall find by the way ; " said Mr. Hale. Then 
added, rather suddenly: ‘‘ Why, Jessica, child! What are 
you doing now ? " 

What, indeed! This inspection of the train, begun 
in simple curiosity, was having a startling ending. At 
the extreme rear of the car they were in sat an old man, 
fondling a shrieking infant and vainly endeavoring to 
quiet it for the frail young mother who looked helplessly 
on. Too weak and ill she was to do more than fix her 
eyes upon the child and to rest her head against the 
uncushioned back of the seat, while the gray-haired 
man — Could he have been the baby's grandfather? If 
so he showed little skill at nursing, for the more he 
petted and pitied the small creature, the more it wriggled 
and yelled. 

Just as there sounded from outside the conductor's 
Order: “All aboard!" and the people came hurrying 


IN THE TOUKIST CAR. 


29 


back into the car, Jessica forced her way among them 
to where the old man sat and catching the baby from his 
arms, cried in a very ecstasy of joy: 

O you blessed old ‘ Forty-niner ! * That isn’t the way 
to hold a baby ! see me ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 


THE LONG JOURNEY ENDS. 

Mr. Hale never forgot that railway trip. 

To rouse Jessica Trent from her sorrow at leaving 
home he had suggested her helping others ; and so thor- 
oughly did she follow his advice that he soon had a dozen 
people depending upon him for counsel and comfort. 
Quoth that young traveler, in the very presence of the 
ailing mother of the tourist car: 

‘‘We are so much better off in our ‘ Arizona,' dear 
Mr. Hale. Let's take this poor little woman and this 
precious baby right back there with us. She can have 
my own soft seat with you and I can sit with Mrs. 
Moriarty, as she wanted me to do. Dear Mr. Marsh — 
Well, he must be with us in there, too. If he loved me 
so well he would hide away from the others and come 
all the way to the other ocean, just because he couldn't 
live without me, course, I can't live without him. Why 
he didn't tell them was — was just because." 

“ Probably a satisfactory reason to him and seems to 
be to you, Miss Jessica. Yet what's to become of him in 
New York? Don't for a moment imagine your future 
hostess, Mrs. Dalrymple, will have him at her house. 
From all I’ve heard of her she's a woman of strong 
opinions and one of them is that it will be better for 
30 


THE LOKQ JOUKKEY EI^BS. 


31 


you to cut loose from your western companions for a 
time.” 

Jessica regarded him with some surprise, but her con- 
fidence was not shaken. 

Oh ! you see, she doesn’t know ‘ Forty-niner.’ I 
suppose she’s read stories about cowboys and such 
things; and my father used to say that the stories were 
mostly exag — exaggerated, and written by people who’d 
never been west in their lives. Fancy ! Writing a book 
about men one never saw! Anyway, Cousin Margaret 
is sure to like Ephraim Marsh. Nobody could help 
it.” 

Meanwhile, the sharpshooter had settled himself most 
comfortably in the ^ Arizona,’ occupying any seat which 
happened to be vacant for the moment and quietly re- 
tiring to his rightful berth in the “ tourist car ” when 
bedtime came. The ailing mother had accepted Jes- 
sica’s place and berth in Mr. Hale’s section, and the 
little girl herself had joined forces with Mrs. Moriarty. 

Jessica had had a reasonable sum of money given her, 
when she left Sobrante, her mother believing it would 
add to that womanly training she needed to have charge 
of it; and without consulting her present guardian the 
girl had given the sick woman enough of her fund to 
pay the different rate of fare. 

It was too late for Mr. Hale to object, and he was too 
polite to do so. The utmost he could accomplish was 
to warn his charge to expend nothing more without his 
advice, and to pass as much of his time in the smoker 
as was possible. Fortunately, the baby was a happy 
child, when physically comfortable; and it was a good 


32 


JESSICA TEENT’S inheritance. 


sleeper; so that the lawyer’s fear of being kept awake 
at night, by having it in the lower berth, proved ground- 
less. 

By the end of the second day out Jessica and the 
baby, which she carried everywhere, had become the life 
of the train ; going visiting ” in one car after another, 
making friends in each, and feeling almost as if they 
were always to journey thus amid these now familiar 
faces. But all journeys end in time, and as they drew 
nearer and nearer to the eastern coast, one after another 
these fellow travelers departed at some stopping-place, 
nearest their homes. 

Why, it seems as if there was nothing in this world 
but just to say ‘ Good-by 1’” cried Jessica, tearfully, 
when the hour came for baby and its mother to leave the 
Arizona.” 

Never mind, dearie, you’ve made it a pleasant trip 
for me, and it’s a little world. We may meet again; 
but if we don’t, just you keep on shedding sunshine and 
you’ll never be sad for long,” said the invalid, herself 
grieved to part with the little Californian yet grateful 
to have reached her own home alive. 

Then almost before she knew it, the week-long trip 
had ended. The train steamed into the great station in 
Jersey City, those who had come “ all the way across ” 
gathered their belongings, submitted to be brushed and 
freshened from the stains of the long trip, hurriedly bade 
one another good-by and were gone. Even Mrs. Mor- 
iarty had time for but a single hug and the bestowal of 
a whole mint drop ere she was captured by a red-faced 
Irishwoman in a redder bonnet, who called her Cousin 


THE LONG JOUKNEY ENDS. 


33 


Dalia,” and bore her away through the crowd toward 
that waiting steamer which should carry her onward to 
her beloved Ireland. 

Jessica watched her go and caught her breath with a 
sob. It sent a sharp pain through her heart to find that 
she seemed the only one for whom a joyful welcome was 
not waiting; and she almost resented Mr. Hale’s blithe 
voice and manner as he laid his hand on her shoulder 
and demanded: 

'‘What? Tears in your eyes, little maid? Are you 
so sorry to have done with those tiresome cars and to 
be on solid ground again? My! But it’s raining a del- 
uge I ” 

“ Raining? Why — how can it now, so late, in the very 
middle of April! But isn’t it good Grandma Moriarty 
did have the gum shoes, after all ? ” 

" Humph ! Good enough for her, but how about our- 
selves, eh? As for 'raining in April,’ that’s just the 
orthodox state of the weather here in the east. Never 
mind. A carriage will take us safely enough to your 
cousin’s house. This way, please. Have you your 
satchel? Porter, take it and these. Now come. I’m as 
glad as a schoolboy to be at home again — or so near it 
that the first suburban train will carry me to it. Six 
months since 1 saw my wife and daughters ! That’s a 
big slice out of a man’s life.” 

He was so glad, indeed, that his usual thoughtfulness 
for others gave place to personal considerations ; and he 
forgot that to his young companion this was not a 
joyful return but a dreaded beginning. 

3 


34 : 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


“This way, Jessica! Step in, please, out of the 
wet!*’ 

The girl obeyed and entered the carriage, and though 
she had checked her tears she felt she had never seen 
anything so dismal as that great wharf, with its dripping 
vehicles, nor heard anything so dreadful as the cries of 
the angry drivers, jostling each other in the storm. 

Then they drove on to the ferry-boat and there a thun- 
der shower burst upon that region such as had not been 
known there for many a day. To the little Californian, 
fresh from that thunderless Paraiso d’Oro, it seemed as 
if the end of the world might be at hand ; and she cow- 
ered against Mr. Hale who slipped his arm caressingly 
about her. At last he had begun to understand some- 
thing of her loneliness and blamed himself that he had 
not done so earlier. 

“Well, little girl, does this frighten you? To me it 
is delightful. At present so fierce, this electric storm 
will clear the air of all impurity, and by the time we 
reach Washington Square, where Mrs. Dalrymple lives, 
we shall have almost Californian sunshine. Just think! 
Though you have never seen her she is your very own 
* blood relation.’ She knew your mother when she, too, 
was a little maid like yourself. I confess I should have 
liked to know that lady then myself. She must have been 
a model of all girlish sweetness, as she is now of wo- 
manly graces. To grow up such a gentlewoman as Mrs. 
Trent — that’s why you are breasting a thunder-storm 
here in New York to-day. Hark ! That peal wasn’t quite 
so loud as the others. The storm is rapidly passing 
eastward and the clouds are lightening. Now look out 


THE LONG JOUKHEY ENDS. 


35 


of the window and get your first glimpse of our biggest 
American city. Not the finest part, by any means, but 
every part is interesting to me.^' 

Thus advised Jessica peered through the rain-splashed 
glass into that crowded west-side avenue, where it 
seemed as if the never-ending line of drays and wagons, 
the clanging street cars, the roar of the ‘'elevated'' 
trains above, and the shouts and screams of all the team- 
sters, was pandemonium indeed. She did not find the 
outlook at all “ interesting," as the loyal citizen had 
described it, but most confusing and terrifying. If 
this were New York, however should she be able to 
endure it? 

With a down sinking of her heart, and a homesick- 
ness quite too deep for tears, the “ little Captain " leaned 
back and closed her eyes, while her fancy pictured that 
far away Sobrante, lying bathed in sunshine and in a 
peacefulness so wholly in contrast to this dreadful city. 
Memories of her home recalled the fact that Ephraim, 
a part of her old world, was not with her now and that 
in the confusion of leaving the train she had quite for- 
gotten him. This sent her upright again, startled and 
eager, to say: 

“ Why, Mr. Hale ! How terrible ! We've forgotten 
* Forty-niner ! ' we must go right back and get him ! " 

“ Impossible. He should have been on the lookout for 
us and kept us in sight. Besides, if we did go back we 
couldn’t find him. New York crowds are always chang- 
ing and he’d move on with the rest. Doubtless, he 
thinks it easy to overtake us anywhere here." 

Jessica was hurt. She could not realize how greatly 


36 JESSICA TREI^T’S INHERITAKCE. 

tried the lawyer had been by many of her thoughtless 
actions during their long journey, nor how impatient 
he was now to be free from his care of her and away 
to his own household. His irritation was perfectly nat- 
ural, and, secretly, he was extremely glad that they 
had thus easily lost the sharpshooter. It was a most 
satisfactory way out of the difficulty in appearing at 
Mrs. Dalrymple’s house with the veteran ranchman in 
train. That she would decline to receive Mr. Marsh, 
he was quite sure; in which case he would himself have 
been left with the old fellow upon his hands, to care 
for in some way till he could be expressed back to So- 
brante. Yes, he was certainly relieved; but he did not 
enjoy the reproachful glance which his young charge 
bestowed upon him as he spoke. After a moment she 
asked : 

Will carriages take you anywhere you want to go, 
here in this big place? Can you hire one for money, 
just as in our dear Los Angeles, when Mr. Ninian got 
one to take us from one station to the other? Could a 
little girl hire one, herself ? ” 

‘‘Why, of course; but Jessica, dear child, get no silly 
notions into your head of running about this city alone 
— even in a public hack. Within a very few moments I 
shall hand you over to the care of your future guardian 
and you will have to be guided by her in everything. 
Nor need you worry about Ephraim. He’s an old cam- 
paigner, has a tongue to ask questions with, and this 
is a decent community. He’ll look out for himself well 
enough. There ! A half-dozen more blocks and we shall 
have arrived ! ” 


THE LOHH JOURKET EHDS. 


37 


Jessica could not answer. She turned her head aside 
and carefully studied the street through which they were 
passing. It looked hopelessly like others they had left. 
The houses bordering it were so tall and close together 
that they seemed to take up all the air, leaving none for 
her to breathe. It was a great relief when they came to 
an open square and stopped before a big house fronting 
upon it. 

** Ah ! I fancied this was the place ! One of our old 
landmarks — and very few are left. How fine for you to 
come to live here, child! I almost envy you the dis- 
tinction,'^ cried the New Yorker, with enthusiasm, as he 
stepped from the carriage and turned to help Jessica out. 

But she was already on the pavement, staring eagerly 
at her new home and seeing nothing so remarkable as 
Mr. Hale fancied about it. It was some larger than the 
other houses near, almost twice as wide, indeed; and it 
stood somewhat back from the street, guarded by a 
sharp-pointed iron fence and an imposing gate. Two 
rather rusty iron lions couched before the entrance, on 
the brown stone steps, but time had softened their once 
fierce expression to a sort of grin which could frighten 
nobody — not even a stranger from Paraiso d'Oro. On 
both sides of the mansion was a stretch of green grass, a 
rare feature in a city where every foot of ground was so 
precious, and that spoke much for the obstinacy of its 
possessor who must repeatedly have refused to part with 
it for building purposes. 

So absorbed in looking at the mansion were both the 
lawyer and Jessica that they scarcely heard the murmur 
of voices behind them, where their jehu was quietly dis- 


38 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


cussing and arranging a little matter of business with a 
man who had ridden beside himself on his coachman’s 
seat; nor, till they passed through the iron gateway and 
ascended the steps, did they realize that the man, also, 
had followed. 

Then Mr. Hale turned his head and uttered a cry of 
regret. But Jessica, likewise turning, felt nothing but 
joy as she flung herself upon Ephraim Marsh, standing 
‘'at attention,” as composed and at ease as if he were 
waiting his mistress’s commands upon the porch at 
Sobrante. 

“Why, Marsh! you — here?” cried the lawyer. “We 
— Miss Jessica feared she had lost you.” 

“ She needn’t have. She couldn’t. She’ll never lose 
me till the grave covers me,” answered the sharpshooter, 
solemnly. 

“ O Ephy ! don’t speak of graves, right here at the be- 
ginning of things I And oh ! how glad I am to have you, 
how glad, how glad I You’re a real bit of dear Sobrante 
and give me courage ! ” 

The great key turned in the door-lock, a bolt or two 
shot back and the door swung on its mighty hinges; 
slowly and cautiously at first, then with more confidence 
as the attendant saw nothing formidable in these visi- 
tors. They seemed to be a gentleman, a soldier, and a 
little girl, where he had anticipated beggars or burglars, 
or worse. 

“Is Mrs. Dalrymple at home? This is Miss Jessica 
Trent, of California, whom the lady expects ; and I am — 
this is my card. Mr. Marsh, also, of California — 
and ” 


THE LONG JOUKNEY EKDS. 


39 


Mr. Hale paused then motioning Jessica forward fol- 
lowed whither the old butler led the way ; “ Forty-niner 
bringing up the rear with his stiffest military stride and 
most impassive expression. 

They were ushered into a great room at the back of 
the house. Its long windows were opened upon an iron 
balcony, from which a flight of steps ran down into what 
once had been a charming garden but was now a neg- 
lected wilderness. The room itself was oppressive from 
its crowding furniture, dust-covered and dark in tone, 
and a faded carpet strewn with much litter added to the 
unpleasant effect. Till suddenly Jessica discovered that 
the carpet had once been a “ picture.’’ An old time hunt- 
ing scene with horses and people and dogs galore ; where 
some of the horses had lost their heads, the dogs their 
tails, and the red coats of the huntsmen had suffered 
much — through the tread of feet during years and years 
of time. 

Nevertheless, she was down upon her knees examining 
it, calling attention to this detail or that, till the silence 
in which they had been left was broken by the sound of 
a tap-tap along the hall and the old butler reappeared, 
announcing : 

Madam Dalrymple.” 

Mr. Hale rose and advanced, Forty-niner ” made his 
best “ salute,” but Jessica neither moved nor spoke. She 
could only gaze with fascination at the figure standing 
between the portieres and wait what next. That an 
old lady”? That! 


CHAPTER IV. 


IN THE ANCIENT MANSION. 

“My cousin Jessica! I bid you welcome. Studying 
my wonderful old carpet, I see. Your mother did that 
before you, child, and many another Waldron besides her. 
Mr. Hale, I am happy to meet you. Be seated, please. 
This other gentleman 

“ Ephraim Marsh, at your sarvice. Ma’am. I belong 
to Miss Trent. Pm from Sobrante with her. Ma’am.” 

Mr. Hale waited with much interest for what might 
follow this statement, but was unprepared for the gra- 
cious suavity of Madam Dalrymple, of whose temper he 
had heard much. With a kindly, if patronizing, smile 
she waved Ephraim aside, directing her own old servitor 
to: 

“ Take Marsh below, Tipkins, and see that he has re- 
freshments.” 

Evidently, the Madam had accepted the sharpshooter 
as a correct feature of the situation, considering that it 
was the mark of a gentlewoman to be well attended ; and 
as the two old men left the room he wondered how 
“ Forty-niner ” himself would relish being classed with 
the servants “below stairs.” However, Ephraim cared 
not one whit for that. He had attained his ambition. 
Pie had come east to share in educating his “ little Cap- 
40 


Ilf THE AHCIENT MAHSIOH. 


41 


tain ” and he was now assigned to a home in the same 
house with hen “ Hooray ! was his thought ; and, 
further, that as soon as one other small matter was set- 
tled he would sit him down and write a letter to the other 
“ boys ” that would make them stare. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Dalrymple sank gracefully into a 
deep chair, displaying no sign of the intense pain each 
movement cost her and physically unable to stand for a 
moment longer. Thence she held out a thin white hand 
toward the girl who had not yet risen from the floor, nor 
left off staring at the lady before her — so wholly differ- 
ent from the picture she had formed of the stern old 
woman with whom she was to live. 

Now blushing at her own rudeness, which she was sure 
the other had observed, she rose and came slowly forward 
and took the extended hand. Poor hand ! So white, yet 
with such cruelly gnarled and swollen joints ! There 
was no kiss proffered from either side; even impulsive 
Jessica feeling that she would no more dare touch that 
person in the arm-chair than she would a bit of the most 
delicate, and forbidden, porcelain. 

“ Thank you for welcoming me, Cousin Margaret ; if 
I am to call you that? said Lady Jess,’^ all the wonder 
and admiration she felt showing in her face. 

Certainly, my dear. We are second-cousins twice 
removed.’^ 

“ Then, Cousin Margaret, my mother sends you her 
dear love and great respect ; and I am to obey you in all 
things — all things that I can; and I am to do for you 
whatever you will let me.^^ 

With that, having ended her little speech as duly in- 


42 


JESSICA teent’s Inheritance. 


structed by her mother, Jessica folded her arms across 
her bosom and tossed back her yellow curls, in a charac- 
teristic gesture, now wholly familiar to Mr. Hale, but 
which to a stranger had a little air of defiance. So Mrs. 
Dalrymple interpreted it, and with some amusement 
asked : 

“ You make some reservation of your obedience, then, 
do you. Cousin Jessica? Like Gabriella herself. Mean- 
ing, maybe, to obey me when and only when it suits 
your mood to do so. Very well ; we shall understand 
each other perfectly; and those who understand know 
how to avoid collision. Be assured, we shall never quar- 
rel, little cousin.’^ 

Jessica was troubled She felt she had expressed her- 
self badly and offended this wonderful lady whom she 
longed to have love her, and who seemed so little in- 
clined to do so. She hastened to explain : 

I meant only if you should happen to tell me to do 
something that I felt wasn’t right — or that is different 
from what my mother likes — or, oh ! dear ! Please do 
understand what I want to say, for, truly, it was nothing 
naughty ! ” 

Madam Dalrymple laughed, and answered : 

“ Your words, little cousin, are but another instance 
of the fact that explanations are the most hopeless things 
in this world. When Gabriella left me she, too, tried to 
‘ explain ’ and failed to make a bit of change in the bare 
truth. She left me because she wished. You’ll disobey 
me, if you do, because you wish. That’s the matter in a 
nutshell. One thing I’ll make clear at the beginning: 
I shall lay no unnecessary commands upon you, and I 


IN THE ANCIENT MANSION. 


43 


shall insist that you remember everywhere and always 
that you are a — Waldron, You belong to a race that 
has high ideals and lives up to them. Ah! yes! One 
other thing. I don’t care for demonstrations of affec- 
tion. We have not come together because we are, or 
ever will be, fond of one another; but because we are 
both Waldrons and the time is fitting. 

“Ah! must you leave us, Mr. Hale? Beg pardon for 
not — not having attended more to you than to the child 
there ; and than!: you for your safe escort of her. I shall 
write my cousin Gabriella at once and inform her that 
Jessica has arrived. Good morning.” 

Mr. Hale bowed himself out, feeling almost as if he 
were deserting his traveling companion to a most un- 
happy fate. For a girl like “ Lady Jess ” to be housed 
with Madam Dalrymple seemed a bitter thing. The 
child had lived in the sunshine, materially and spiritually, 
and the gloom of that old mansion in Washington Square 
had been oppressive even to him and during such a brief 
stay. And for the first time since he had discovered 
“ Forty-niner ” a runaway on the train he was thankful 
for his presence. 

“ There’s a trio of stubborn wills shut up in that dark 
house, this minute, for even Miss Jessie has a will of her 
own; as for those of the Madam and Ephraim, should 
they happen to clash, I wonder which would conquer! 
However, I’ve done with them, for the present, and now 
for home and my own dear girls ! ” thought the lawyer, 
as he reentered the waiting carriage and was driven 
toward the station which led to his own home, a few miles 
north of town. 


44 JESSICA TEENT'S INHERITAErCE, 

Madam Dalrymple made a slight motion to rise and 
dropped the slender cane which had rested against her 
chair, and the “ tap-tapping '' of which had announced 
her coming through the hall. Instantly, Jessica had 
picked it up and restored it, and was as promptly thanked. 
Moreover the lady’s eyes, still marvelously dark and 
bright for one so old, rested with an interested expres- 
sion on the young face before them. 

That was well thought, Cousin Jessica. Your 
mother must have trained you better than I feared, living 
so in the wilderness.” 

“ Oh ! it isn’t a wilderness, not in the least. It is the 
most beautiful spot in all the world! New York can’t 
compare with our lovely Sobrante — not compare! And 
I hope she didn’t have to ‘ train ’ me to do a thing like 
that, which nobody could help doing, could they ? ” 

“ Came naturally, eh ? Better still. Sit down. It 
tires me to see you standing. Luncheon will be served 
at one and it is almost that time now. Sit down and 
tell me about your journey — or anything you choose. 
Only speak low. I observe that by nature, if you are 
not excited, your voice is fairly good. Gentlewomen 
are never noisy nor obtrusive. Remember that.” 

Jessica would rather have remained standing, or, bet- 
ter still, have stepped through the long open window out 
into that rain-drenched old garden, a-glitter now in the 
sunshine that was almost as bright as Sobrante’s. But 
she reflected that here was her first chance to ** obey ” 
and placed herself on a low stool near her hostess, fixing 
her gaze upon the lady’s face with a curiosity that failed 
to oflfend, it was so full of admiration. Yet finding that 


m THE ANCIENT MANSION. 


45 


serene scrutiny somewhat trying, Mrs. Dalrymple her- 
self opened the conversation by asking: 

‘‘Does Gabriella, your mother, keep her good looks? 
Or is she faded from that rude life she leads and the 
sorrow she has met ? 

“Faded? My — mother — faded? Why, how queer! 
Cousin Margaret Dalrymple, she is almost the most 
beautiful woman in all southern California. Truly! Mr. 
Ninian says so, and Mr. Hale did, and — and I think so! 
She is just like the Madonna picture in Fra Sebastian's 
house, she is so lovely. Her hair — her hair isn't quite as 
white as yours, it is a beautiful dark gold color — ^but she 
has almost as much as you. She doesn't wear it in that 
puffed up, frizzly kind of way, but just turns it back in 
one big coil that is — is lovely." 

Mrs. Dalrymple slightly winced. She did wear a pro- 
fusion of snow-white locks, as became a venerable 
woman of fashion, and Jessica was not wise enough, as 
yet, to know that such headgear may be bought in a shop 
and put on or off at will. The next question followed 
rather soon and sharply: 

“ Does she still sing ? She once had a charming voice." 

“ Oh ! it is like the birds in the trees along the arroyo 
to hear my mother sing! She doesn’t often now, it 
makes her think so much of my father. Why, all the 
‘ boys ' say that it was something wonderful when they 
two sang together of a Sunday morning, or sometimes 
at night. John Benton said it was as near like the 
music of Heaven as anything on the earth could be. 
John is very religious, John is; only, sometimes, when 
Aunt Sally tries his patience very much he says — he says 


46 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


things that don’t sound nice. But Samson is religiouser 
even than John. They’re both of them just perfectly 
splendid ‘boys.’ Oh! all our ‘boys’ are fine, just fine! 
You’d love them every one!” answered Jessica with en- 
thusiasm. 

“ Humph ! I was never any too fond of ‘ boys,’ and 
Gabriella must be crazy to try and run a ranch by the aid 
of a few ‘ boys.’ Why doesn’t she employ men, if so be 
she will persist in living in such an outlandish place ? ” 

“ Little Captain ” smiled. 

“ Well, I suppose they’re not exactly real boys, like 
Ned or Luis. They’re quite grown up and gray-headed, 
most of them. They all worked for my father, who 
found them scattered about the world, sort of ‘ down on 
their luck,’ as Marty says, and brought them all to dear 
Sobrante to give them a home and ‘ another chance.’ 
They just about worshipped my father, I guess, and I 
know they do my darling mother. Oh I I wish you could 
see her ! ” 

“ It is wholly her own fault that I cannot. Here comes 
Tipkins to announce luncheon, and I have quite forgot- 
ten that you should have been taken to your room to 
freshen yourself after your journey. Odd! that Gabriella 
should have sent a man and not a maid with you. But I 
suppose she knew I would prefer one of my own selec- 
tion, here in the east.” 

“Oh! She didn’t send Ephraim. He — ^he just came 
because he loved me so and wouldn’t stay behind. He — 
Why dear old ‘ Forty-niner ’ actually ran away ! Fancy ! 
Just as the little boys so love to do.” 

“ Humph ! A strange life, a strange bringing up you 


IN THE ANCIENT MANSION. 47 

seem to have had. Tipkins, send Barnes to attend Miss 
Jessica.” 

'' Yes, Madam, Til — try,” replied the old servant, 
bowing and withdrawing upon the errand. Both he and 
his mistress well knew that Barnes, my lady’s maid, was 
rarely sent ” upon any errand her own will did not 
dictate, and that she had more than once declared, since 
the coming of Jessica had been decided upon, that “ the 
Madam needn’t go for to expect me to ’tend upon no 
brats at my time of life, nor she needn’t ask it. If she 
does I’ll give notice and that’ll settle herJ' 

However, curiosity often accomplishes what authority 
cannot; and because Tipkins had reported below stairs 
that our Miss Gabriella’s little daughter looks like a 
hangel out of Heaven,” and the sharpshooter had treated 
her maidship with such profound reverence, upon being 
presented as “ Miss Jessica’s man ” — the arbitrary Barnes 
condescended to obey the present summons. 

Mrs. Dalrymple had made a slight effort to rise from 
her chair and Jessica had already sprung forward to 
help her, when the white-capped and white-haired maid 
appeared ; but the lady now sank back again, directing : 

Show Miss Jessica to her room, Barnes, please, and 
help her to make what slight change is necessary now. 
Her luggage can be unpacked before dinner. I will 
wait here for her.” 

Luncheon is served, Madam,” remonstrated the maid, 
rather sharply. 

“ It can be put back. I will wait for you here,” re- 
turned the mistress with equal sharpness. 

With a sniff and a bridling of her head Barnes de- 


48 


JESSICA treat’s inheritance. 


parted, bidding Jessica : “ This way, please, and mind the 
stairs. All this twaddle about old things being better’n 
new and risking mortals' legs on rags, beats me. Hmm. 
Some folks grow queerer as they grow older, some does." 

Jessica followed in wondering silence and, although 
warned to “ mind the stairs," caught her toe in the frayed 
covering of one and fell. But she was up again as soon 
as down and without quite understanding why was indig- 
nant with her guide for the slighting tone in which she 
spoke. Certainly, the carpet had once been a very fine 
one. Even now, where an unbroken spot appeared, the 
foot sank deep into a mossy greenness that was delight- 
ful, and fully bore out the vivid description of this old 
home which her mother had sometimes given her. 

But even in Mrs. Trent’s own girlhood days the fur- 
nishings of this ancient mansion had become worn al- 
most to uselessness, and the years which had elapsed 
since then had finished the work of destruction. In truth, 
all the floor coverings were now but what Barnes called 
“ man traps," where unwary feet would be caught and 
falls result. 

'' ’Twas one of them same holes the Madam caught 
her own high heel in and got an injury was the beginning 
of her lameness. The doctor calls it ‘ gout,’ he does ; but 
I, well, I calls it ' pride,’ just plain, senseless, family 
pride. Whatever zvas, my lady thinks, is far and away 
better nor what is. But as for me and the rest of the serv- 
ants, give us even the cheapest sort of ‘ ingrain,’ provid- 
ing it was new and we’d feel safer for our old bones. 
Well, here is your room. Miss, and if you’ll let me slip 
off your frock I’ll soon make you tidy." 



“ Thence she held out a thin white hand toward the girl who had not yet risen 

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IK THE AKCIEKT MAKSIOK. 


49 


Had Jessica known it this was a fine concession on the 
part of ever-weary Barnes, who acknowledged to her 
advancing age with a frankness which her mistress de- 
nied, but she looked so tired from her climb up the long 
stairs that the girl promptly exclaimed: 

“ Oh ! Don’t you trouble, please, Mrs. Barnes. I can 
wait upon myself quite well. Indeed, I never have any- 
body to wait upon me, except now and then my darling 
mother — just for love’s sake.” Then with a swift recol- 
lection of the tenderness those motherly fingers had 
shown, even in the matter of buttoning or unbuttoning a 
frock, her blue eyes grew moist and for a moment that 
dreadful homesickness made her turn half-faint. 

Now old Barnes was neither dense nor unkind. She 
was merely spoiled. She had domineered over her frac- 
tious mistress since both of them were young and she 
really felt that she was of more authority in the house 
than its owner. She and Tipkins had entered service to- 
gether, at the time of Mrs. Dalrymple’s early marriage, 
and like the storied brook ” they had gone on for- 
ever.” Dozens, maybe hundreds, of other servants had 
flowed ” through the mansion and few had tarried long. 
None save these two original servitors willingly put up 
with the peculiarities of the Madam, and the old-time 
inconveniences of the establishment. She was quick to 
notice the down dropping of the girlish face and the 
gleam of tears beneath the long lashes, and said, consol- 
ingly : 

Of course. Miss, it’ll seem lonesome like and differ- 
ent at first. But you’ll get used to it, you know. A body 
can get used to anything in time. I suppose Californy’s 
4 


50 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


a terrible hot place, now ain’t it? So it’s a good job 
you’ve come away from it before the summer. That old 
man of yours, he’s a queer stick, I judge. But polite, 
why he’s real polite. And old. That’s a fine thing, 
too. If he’d been young. Madam would have sent him 
about his business so fast ’twould have made him dizzy. 
But she likes everything old. Having old folks about 
her makes her forget her own age and fancy herself still 
a mere girl. Never remind my lady that she’s not as 
young as she used to be and you’ll get on — get on, fairly 
well, that is. Now, ready? Is that the kind of frock 
you generally wear ? ” 

Barnes had comfortably rested in a rocker while Jes- 
sica washed and brushed at the great washstand, fur- 
nished with such expensive and badly nicked china, in 
one corner of the great chamber. The rocker had been 
overlooked, in the preparation of this room for a young 
girl’s use, and would have been removed had Madam 
remembered it. She herself disdained the use of such a 
chair and considered it totally unfit for well-bred people. 
Easy chairs of ancient and ample proportions — these 
were quite different ; but until of late, since that acci- 
dent which Barnes had mentioned, she had herself never 
occupied aught but the straight-backed ones, such as had 
been the correct thing in her childhood. 

“ Yes, most of my clothes are made like this. My 
mother does them. Isn’t it pretty? I’ve two more;” 
finished Jessica proudly, sweeping out the rather scant 
skirt to show its beauty. 

*^Two more! Is that all? And you one of the great- 
est heiresses in the land, my lady says ! ” cried Barnes, 


IN THE ANCIENT MANSION. 


51 


looking with infinite scorn upon the simple blue flannel 
dress which its wearer thought so fine. “ Well ! If that 
ain't odd ! Come. We’ll go down now, and I warn you 
again — mind the stairs ! ” 


CHAPTER V. 


BUSTER TAKES A CITY TRAIL. 

No life could have been in greater contrast to that of 
Sobrante than this upon which the young Californian 
now entered. Her own first letter home may best de- 
scribe it, written soon after her arrival in Washington 
Square, and while her impressions were still vivid. 

** My Darlingest, Dearest Mother : 

We got here all safe and sound, after a nice journey. 
I was so homesick at first I thought I should die. Then 
Mr. Hale sent me to do something for a dear old Irish 
lady in the two sections ahead of ours. It was my sec- 
tion, too, afterwards when the sick mother and the Baby 
came. I found them in the tourist car — tourists can be 
real nice sometimes, mother dear — weM made mistakes 
thinking they couldn’t be, there at home. But Mr. Hale 
says the world is full of all sorts of people and rude tour- 
ists and polite tourists are two of those sorts. Besides, 
our Cousin Margaret Dalrymple thinks it’s not being a, 
tourist makes the difference. It’s ‘ born in folks to be 
refined or coarse, and one can’t help nature.’ She thinks 
it’s * born in me,’ to be quite nice, but that’s no credit to 
me; she says I had the advantage to be a Waldron. 
Being a Waldron is, I guess, being everything ‘ correct.’ 
I’m very glad we’re all Waldrons together, you and 
52 


BUSTEK TAKES A CITY TRAIL. 


63 


Cousin Margaret, and darling Ned, and I. It seems to be 
a great help in doing just what one ought to do. 

“ Wasn’t it dear and sweet and just perfectly lovely of 
• Forty-niner ’ to steal away and come to take care of me ? 
Mr. Hale said he was afraid you Sobrante people would 
be worried about him, so he telegraphed right back to 
tell you where he was. I hope you got that message 
sooner than we used to those which came by way of 
Marion; but, of course, you did — since now we have a 
little station of our very own right at ' the Sobrante.’ 
Queer. My Cousin Margaret and some people who have 
come to this house seem to think it’s a wonderful thing, 
that having a copper mine in the family. I don’t! I 
think it’s horrid. If it hadn’t been for that old stuff 
being dug out of the earth I’d never have had to come 
away here to be educated. Am I not getting educated 
fast? Yet I’ve learned to write thus much better just 
from you and Mr. Ninian teaching me at home. I am 
taking the greatest pains to do all you want me to. 

This is the queerest, quaintest old house in the city, 
some of the visitors say. That our Cousin Margaret has 
been offered an enormous price for it but won’t sell it, 
even though she would get all that money and ‘ the neigh- 
borhood isn’t what it used to be.’ Even she says that, 
and complains most bitterly about the ^ parvenusers ’ 
that have crept into it. There are stores and artists’ 
studios and apartment places and — all sorts of things 
that a Waldron doesn’t like in the Square, nowadays. 
But Cousin Margaret says that once only the ‘ inner circle 
of society ’ dwelt in these old houses. 

"Speaking of old: that is one word you must never 


64 : 


JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 


apply to our Cousin Margaret. I thought Td best tell 
you in case you didn't know. I shouldn't have known, 
not right at first, if Barnes hadn't told me. Barnes says 
that the older and more worn-out the things are the bet- 
ter pleased Mrs. Dalrymple is. She is so proud of every- 
thing in the ‘ mansion ' being just the same as it was in 
her own grandfather's time, that she won't even buy new 
chairs for the kitchen nor have new plumbing put in, 
even though the health officers have been trying to make 
her do that. That's why she can never keep cooks and 
people like that, of the * lower classes,' you know. 
Barnes says there have been four new cooks this very 
last week that ever was, and I guess each one is stupider 
than the other. I know Wun Lung would have been 
ashamed to put such stuff on our table at home as we had 
here that first luncheon. (We spell lunch with an * eon ' 
at our Cousin Margaret's.) As for dear Aunt Sally, I 
believe she would have got up and tossed the whole mess 
out into the garden for the chickens to eat. Only there 
aren't any chickens and Aunt Sally wasn't here. 

“ Dear Ephraim was ; and that is the best thing has 
happened this dozen years, Tipkins says. You used to 
know Tipkins, so, of course, you know too that he 
* wouldn’t demean himself to cook anything ' unless his 
Madam was really starving, and then he’d make Barnes 
do it. He is the only one can make Barnes do things 
she doesn't like. My Cousin Margaret can't. It's 
Barnes makes Cousin Margaret. But Barnes said she 
was a lady's-maid and she wouldn't demean, either. 
Ephraim thinks there's a ‘ touch of sentiment in Barnes's 
heart for Tipkins ' and that's why she minds him 


BUSTER TAKES A CITY TRAIL. 


55 


— sometimes! Ephraim wishes she would get the 
same sort of 'touch’ for him, then she wouldn’t order 
him to do things he really doesn’t like. Mr. Hale 
thought Cousin Margaret would be angry with ‘ Forty- 
niner ’ for coming and send him away, but she wasn’t 
at all. She thinks it is perfectly ' correct and Waldron-y ’ 
to have a man belonging to you. She was a little vexed 
that you didn’t send a ' maid ' with me, too, till I told her 
you hadn’t any maid to send. Our maids were both 
Chinese ' boys ’ and had never combed a girl’s hair in 
their lives nor buttoned a frock. 

" But the best part about Ephraim is that now he is 
the cook. Seems that when he was offered that first 
luncheon he looked it over and turned up his nose about 
it. Said he reckoned he was in a city where they could 
buy victuals ready cooked if a body was such a fool he 
couldn’t cook them himself. And would he go out and 
get something fit to eat? And Tipkins asked, had he any 
money? Then Ephraim had to own that he hadn’t. It 
had taken his very last cent to pay his own fare here from 
home and to pay Buster’s fare, too. Think of that ? The 
darling old ' boy ’ had hired Buster brought on by ex- 
press, in a car all by himself, because there weren’t any 
cattle cars on our train, and it had cost — Oh! dear! I 
don’t yet know how much. Ephy won’t tell. Anyway, 
he’d struck his bottom dollar when he reached Wash- 
ington Square — had just enough to hire the hackman to 
bring Buster to the house for him. So he’s here, in the 
stable behind, with our Cousin Margaret’s black span, 
who are as old, seems if, as everything else. 

" Asking him if he had money for the food made 


56 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


Ephraim mad. So he said that if he hadn’t he had sense 
enough to cook it, if there was any to cook. Then Tip- 
kins hurried off and bought a great basket full of every- 
thing nice, and that night we had such a dinner as would 
have done even Aunt Sally credit. There was quite a 
tilt between those two funny old men ! Tipkins, he said 
he was the butler, and as long as there was a woman 
under the roof it wasn’t a man’s place to handle a grid- 
iron, and so he wouldn’t demean to cook. Ephraim said 
he'd been everything under the sun a man could be — ex- 
cept a nasty, high-flown English butler I He’d worn the 
United States’ military uniform, and he’d dug gold out 
of California mountains, and taught the nicest girl in the 
universe to sharpshoot to beat the militia — That was me ! 
Wasn’t it nice of him to say that? — and he guessed rather 
than let that girl what had done him so proud go and 
starve for want of decent food he’d tackle the first frying- 
pan came his way. 

So there he is, installed in the great, dreary kitchen 
downstairs, where it’s so dark I wonder he can see at 
all, and just as proud now of the fine things he fixes as 
he used to be of me when I hit the bull’s-eye. And our 
Cousin Margaret is perfectly delighted with him. She 
isn’t a bit ashamed to say that her stomach has a good 
deal to do with her temper, and that if the first is satisfied 
the last is sure to be. That’s a good thing about Cousin 
Margaret. She isn’t a bit afraid to say anything she 
thinks about — about all that is, except her own age. I 
don’t mean, course, that she would tell a wrong story 
about that, even, if anybody would dare to ask, but I 
can’t fancy anybody daring. She is such a beautiful old 


BUSTER TAKES A CITY TRAIL. 


57 


lady — gentlewoman, I should say. She’s like you in that, 
she thinks that is the correctest word. She wears 
clothes that even I, who don’t know much about such 
matters, know are perfectly beautiful. Shining, shim- 
mery silks — like the sunlight on the arroyo when there’s 
water in it; made long and draggy like our peacocks’ 
own tails and her hair — Why, mother dearest! Even 
your beautiful hair isn’t half so much as hers-. It’s 
piled on top of her head in what she calls a ' pompydoor,’ 
and dips down behind all in little crinkles, like mine 
after it’s been washed; and her skin is so white, I don’t 
believe she ever went out into the sunshine without her 
veil to keep it off. Her eyes are black and snappy and 
she never wears glasses, like the ‘ boys ’ do, except in 
what Barnes calls the ‘ privacy of her bedchamber.’ I’ve 
never seen that privacy and I should be afraid to sleep 
in her bedchamber. It’s the front room up-stairs, with 
three great windows and an ‘ alcove.’ In the ‘ alcove ’ is 
a big, big bed, all stuffy curtains and things around it 
and so high there’s a little ladder to climb up. There 
are looking-glasses all about and so many chairs and 
wardrobes and things I shouldn’t think she could hardly 
move about. I have seen it all from the hall, going to 
my own room at the back, but I’ve never been invited in 
and I wouldn’t dare to go without being asked. That’s 
the one thing about our Cousin Margaret. I guess it’s 
what you call ‘ stately.’ She keeps people from daring, 
all except Barnes. Even the persons who call and stay 
in the drawing-room act afraid of Madam. Her recep- 
tion days are like a queen’s, Tipkins says. There is to 
be one, to-morrow ; the ‘ last of the season.’ She sent 


58 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

Barnes down somewhere to buy me a white frock, with 
blue ribbons and white shoes and stockings. I am to 
wear it at the reception and be presented, for a few 
minutes, because I am ‘ Gabriella’s child.’ Then I am to 
be sent away again. That seems silly to me: to spend 
m.oney for a frock to wear only a few minutes, but I 
wouldn’t dare say so to Madame Dalrymple. 

“ My room is the one you used to have. I wonder how 
you could sleep in it without being afraid. I can’t. So 
Ephy comes upstairs and sleeps on a cot outside the 
door. I was never afraid in all my life before, but I am 
here. Everything is so big and dark and heavy. I feel 
as if I were carrying mountains on my chest, and I’d 
give — Oh ! what wouldn’t I give to jump on Buster’s 
bare back and scamper up the canyon as fast as he could 
go! Cousin Margaret was nice about Buster, too. She 
says it is quite a distinction to have a real Californian 
with her cahallero and broncho to ride alongside her 
carriage when she goes out driving in the Park. We 
are going this afternoon. But I don’t feel as glad as I 
ought, because I must wear the funniest kind of a habit, 
with a long flapping skirt, and Ephraim must put on some 
stiff-looking things she calls suitable for a groom. 
Cousin Margaret has bought these clothes for us, too, all 
ready made, and Ephraim says he is plumb disgusted, 
and that he will feel like a fool. I hope he won’t. I can’t 
imagine darling ' Forty-niner ’ feeling like anybody ex- 
cept his own sensible self. 

Now, dearest mother, I must stop. I promised 
Cousin Margaret I would have my new riding things on 
at precisely four o’clock. When she says four o’clock 


BUSTER TAKES A CITY TRIAL. 


59 


she doesn’t mean a minute before that time nor a minute 
after. The first lesson she is trying to teach me is — is 
* punctuerality ’ or something like that. She says that to 
be exact is another mark of a gentlewoman, and dear me ! 
It seems that being a gentlewoman here in New York, 
with Madam to watch me, is lots harder than being one 
at dear Sobrante, with only your sweet smile to guide 
me. 

P.S. I have written you a long, long letter. I have 
felt as if I were talking to you and I have talked right 
out. The reason it is done so well is that Cousin Mar- 
garet has read it all over and corrected it and made me 
copy it. She said she would have liked to strike out 
some of my sentences ; that they ' suggested a coarseness 
which must have come from the Trent side of my na- 
ture,’ and that no girl, purely Waldron, would have put 
them in. However, it was her own dignity as a Waldron 
which kept her from the striking out. She was willing 
to correct the spelling and writing, though she left some 
mistakes for you to see, so that you might know how 
much I need that education I have got to take. Oh! 
dear ! It sounds like a dose of castor oil, or Aunt Sally’s 
picra! Or even like a great big club / must be cud- 
gelled with. Never mind. I’ll ‘ tackle ’ that old educa- 
tion with everything that is in me, so that I can get it 
over and done with and travel home to you again. The 
last part of this letter I have not had to have corrected ; 
and the next one I write I’ll try to make so perfect she’ll 
not wish to read any more. If our Cousin Margaret 
would only love me a little tiny bit! or let me love her. 
I so long to hear somebody say ‘ darling ' or ‘ precious,’ or 


60 JESSICA tkent's inhekitance. 

anything else that would make me know they cared. 
Only Ephraim does now and then, but has to say it on 
' the sly ' as he calls it. When Cousin Margaret doesn’t 
hear. It would be beneath a Waldron’s dignity to be 
familiar with a servant — and she considers darling 
' Forty-niner ' such. He only laughs about it ; though, 
all the same, I believe he’s met what Marty calls his 
* come-uppance ’ in our Cousin Margaret. She likes 
him, treats him well enough, but keeps him at arms’ 
length as if he were some sort of a ' creature ’ and he is 
more afraid of her than even Tipkins. He says that’s 
because if he offended she would send him away and he 
won’t be sent. 

Good-by, good-by, good-by ! O my mother ! If I 
had your arms about me just this minute! After all I 
have left a blank page. That is for you to fill up with 
kisses and love, love, love — to you, and Ned, and every 
single body on that dear Sobrante ranch. Oh! why did 
old Pedro ever show us that copper mine? If he hadn’t 
I wouldn’t have been one of ‘ the richest girls ’ nor have 
had an education! I should have just stayed happily at 
home and been only a loving 

Daughter Jessica.” 

There was a tap at the door and the girl carefully 
folded and sealed the envelope, while a small colored 
girl, one of the various “ emergencies ” as Ephraim called 
the shifting extra help ” summoned almost daily, an- 
nounced : 

** The Madam she done want you-all to come right 
along downstairs and go a-ridin’ wth her. She says 


liliSTEIi TAKES A CITY TRAIL. 


G1 


you-all must ha’ heerd the big clock strike an’ should 
ha’ paid your own attention, miss.” 

Jessica sprang up, tripped in the skirt of her riding 
habit, and fell on the floor, while the messenger first 
stared then burst into a loud guffaw. That was a sort of 
noise not permitted in that old mansion and both she and 
Jessica were frightened as if they had committed some 
misdemeanor, as the latter got upon her feet again and 
held the offending skirt high out of the way. 

She looked curiously upon the little maid, with whom 
she would far rather have stayed and played than to have 
ridden in solemn state beside the great carriage of her 
cousin. Girls were the greatest novelty of all these many 
new things which had come into her life; and the one 
redeeming feature about that forthcoming “ education ” 
was that it would be prosecuted in company with many 
other “ girls.” However, she dared not tarry, and in a 
few moments was in her saddle, with Ephraim riding a 
hired hack at the prescribed distance behind her, and 
Buster vainly trying to accommodate his paces to her 
will and those of the sedate blacks drawing the old 
barouche. 

For a little time all went well. Jessica was an ex- 
perienced mistress of this exercise and felt her spirits 
rise as they had not before since reaching the great city. 
Mrs. Dalrymple watched her with pride, which had 
at first been anxiety, but soon saw that she had no 
need to fear for any awkwardness on her young cousin’s 
part. 

Why, my dear, you do well. You might have been 
trained in our best riding academy,” commended the 


62 


JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 


Madam, with satisfaction. “ It is the characteristic of a 
gentlewoman to be an accomplished equestrienne.” 

Jessica smiled and cast a meaning glance backward into 
Ephraim's face, which he was trying to compose into 
that impassive stolidity of Mrs. Dalrymple's own coach- 
man and footman. But he failed and the most he could 
accomplish was an ignominious wink. Tipkins had duly 
instructed him as to the “ correct ” behavior on this his 
appearance as groom,” but that teacher would have 
been shocked through all his English soul had he seen that 
contorted wink. 

Then they found their way into Fifth Avenue, and 
this seemed to Jessica the prettiest part of the town that 
she had seen, with its aristocratic, comparative quiet; 
and here Mrs. Dalrymple explained : 

** That brown stone house on the corner, the right 
side of the street, is Madam Mearsom's school, where I 
shall place you at the beginning of the fall term. It is 
the most fashionable and exclusive of all our private 
schools and it is where your mother was trained. I shall 
take you to call upon her soon, and have already en- 
tered your name upon her list. Commonly, a pupil has 
to be enrolled at least two years before there is a vacancy 
in her limited classes; but Madam has made an excep- 
tion in your favor because, as she admitted, she has al- 
ways had the honor of educating the Waldrons. I hope 
you will appreciate the concession and never forget the 
high ideals you must maintain.” 

I will try. Cousin Margaret,” dutifully replied ‘‘ little 
Captain,” though feeling that the ‘'Waldrons and their 
ideals ” were a burden too heavy for her to bear. 


BUSTER TAKES A CITY TRAIL. 


63 


“ Now we must turn aside, into a cross street, to see 
my dressmaker. I don^t know why such persons always 
will live on cross streets! It’s most annoying, they are 
so much narrower and confusing. Notice, child, how 
our New York is laid out. As simple as a checker- 
board — from First Street up, all the cross streets go by 
count, and all the Avenues in the same order, until you 
come to that far-away East Side where they are lettered. 
But neither you nor I will ever have more to do with 
Avenues A, B, or C, than to know they do exist and 
are marked on the city map.” 

The coachman drew up before a house which seemed 
to be familiar both to him and the blacks, which settled 
down into a sleepy attitude, quite unfitting such aristo- 
cratic beasts but that indicated their prescience of a long 
wait. The Madam was helped from the carriage and had' 
to pause a moment, as always when she made any physi- 
cal exertion, before ascending the steps. Then she passed 
up them with the ease of a much younger woman and 
was promptly admitted. 

It was there that disaster fell. Buster had been grow- 
ing more and more restive. Jessica’s unfamiliar skirt 
fretted his delicate skin ; the saddle was not his old one 
fitting comfortably to his back ; this enforced pacing, 
pacing, was intolerable to a broncho of spirit ; this stand- 
ing quiet was more annoying even than the pacing had 
been ; and when a honking automobile came dashing 
around the corner of the block, almost into his very face, 
he cast one terrified, reproachful glance into his rider’s 
eyes and took the bit in his teeth. 

Oh! but he traveled then! Ephraim pursuing and 


64 : 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


using most objectionable language to the hack he be- 
strode. 

“ Oh ! you vile beast ! Call yourself a horse, do you ? 
well, you don’t know what a horse is, I tell you ! Get up ! 
Get on! Vamos! Speed! Even old Stiff leg, that de- 
serted me on the streets of Los Angeles, had more fire in 
him than you, poor old wornout New Yorker! Vamos! 
V-A-M-O-S I 

In vain. Jessica had vanished. The broncho, unused 
to city sights and sounds, would not be checked nor 
swerved from the mad course he had elected to follow. 
The most she could do was to keep her seat upon his back 
and this she managed, even though hampered by that 
detestable skirt and that slippery new saddle. Bare- 
backed, without this handicap, how she would have 
reveled in that mad ride ! even now, knowing that her 
Cousin Margaret’s dire displeasure awaited her return, 
she did revel in it. Almost she could fancy herself tear- 
ing across the plain, where no obstruction offered and the 
soft sod was a cushioned pathway for Buster’s hoofs, 
and for a moment closing her eyes, she let her fancy 
carry her back to Paraiso d’Oro ; and Buster — whither he 
would. 

But she opened them again in terror, as a wild scream 
came from beneath those hoofs and the broncho was so 
suddenly checked that he almost threw her off back- 
ward. 

The inevitable had happened on that crowded thorough- 
fare into which he had now turned. She and he had 
been ignorantly reckless of consequences and most un- 
toward consequences had resulted. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Jessica’s first girl friend. 

The screams came from a girl of Jessica’s own age, 
whom Buster had ridden down and thrown to the pave- 
ment. But they were instantly taken up and repeated by 
a score of throats, while a crowd assembled on the spot, 
as if it had risen from the ground itself. 

“ Oh ! have I killed her ? ” cried “ Little Captain,” as 
swiftly realizing the accident, and almost as swiftly, 
leaping from her saddle to bend above the girl who now 
lay with closed eyes and white face, apparently uncon- 
scious. 

Now, that’s awful ! ” cried somebody. It’s against 
the law for folks to ride that gait ! ” 

Arrest her, officer ! Don’t let her get away ! ” ad- 
vised another on-looker, as a policeman laid his hand on 
the broncho’s bridle and held the creature still, save for 
an exciting trembling through all its frame. 

“ I’m not going to ‘ get away ’ ! I want to take care of 
this poor girl ! ” retorted Jessica, lifting her head and 
discovering the officer. O sir! I am so sorry. We 
didn’t see her, Buster nor I, and what can I do ? Is there 
a hospital near? Is she — Do you think — she can't be 
dead, all in a little minute like that! Tell me, help me — ■ 
help her — Please, please ! ” 

At the mention of hospital the girl still lying on the 
payement opened her eyes and tried to rise, and willing 
5 65 


€6 


JESSICA teent’s inhekitance. 


hands helped her to do so. She did gain her feet, quiver- 
ing and terrified still, yet managing to protest with vigor : 

No, no, no ! I won’t go ! Not to a hospital — I won’t, 
I won’t! See? I ain’t hurted. I can walk — I shan’t — I 
shan’t!” 

In truth she was not really injured save by the shock 
of falling, which had rendered her senseless for a little; 
until that word hospital ” — so dreaded by the very 
poor — pierced her consciousness. Buster had run 
against and knocked her down, but it was the blow upon 
the stones which had done the most mischief. 

With tears of pity and regret dimming her own blue 
eyes, Jessica slipped a sustaining arm around the other’s 
waist and eagerly assured her : 

“ Nor shall you go if you’re not really hurt. You 
shall go home, right home, if you’ll tell me where and 
this policeman will get a carriage for us.” 

The Californian was making prompt use of the knowl- 
edge she had already gained concerning this strange city. 
Policemen were the proper persons to direct, in time of 
trouble, and carriages might be had at any and all times 
and everywhere. Street cars were confusingly abundant 
but of these she knew nothing and was afraid. 

It was the officer who recalled her to the fact that 
hiring carriages costs money, and : 

‘‘Can you pay for it, miss? Your name and address, 
please. Whoa, there, you brute! Was there nobody 
with you ? Don’t you know better than to ride like that, 
right here in the city ? ” 

“ No, I didn’t. My name is Jessica Trent. I’m just 
from California and I don’t know much about New York. 


JESSICA’S FIRST GIRL FRIEKD. 


67 


My cousin, Mrs. Dalrymple, lives at Number Wash- 

ington Square, and I live with her. She has money, and 
will pay the carriage man. I haven’t any — not here. 
But I wasn’t alone, only that old hired horse wouldn’t 
travel and — Ah ! here he comes ! Ephraim, Ephraim 1 ” 

Though he had failed to keep her in sight, the despised 
hack-horse had had intelligence enough to follow the 
course his late companion, Buster, had taken, and now 
brought Forty-niner ” to his “ Captain’s ” side. 

“Why, Lady Jess! Whatever ’s this?” demanded the 
astonished ranchman, beholding his beloved child stand- 
ing in the middle of the street, with her arm about the 
waist of a ragged, hunchbacked girl, and a tray full of 
flowers lying on the stones before them. The flowers 
were sadly trampled and bruised, and Buster had planted 
one restless hoof plump through the wicker tray. 

“ I — ^We run over, or knocked her down, this dear, 
poor little flower-girl, I guess she is. I want to get a 
carriage and take her home. Have you got any money? 
This policeman says I must have it first.” 

Ephraim slowly dismounted and slipping his own 
horse’s bridle over one arm, coolly relieved the officer of 
Buster’s, much to the delight of that person in uniform. 
Then he demanded : 

“ What’s the taxes ? ” 

“ The — what ? ” asked the policeman, in turn. 

“ The taxes, the cost, the price of that there carriage ? ” 

“ Probably a dollar or two. Depends on where the 
girl lives and how long it takes. Say, Sis, I’ve seen you 
around here before. You’ve been careless more’n oqce 
and a cripple like you’d better take no chances.” 


68 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


For reply the flower-seller made a saucy face and 
stooped to gather up her scattered posies, critically cal- 
culating the damage done to them and the consequent 
loss to her. She had recovered from her brief uncon- 
sciousness and as Jessica also began to collect the daffo- 
dils and tulips, exclaiming with delight over their beauty, 
her business instinct came to the fore. 

** Fiye cents a bunch, miss. Only five cents ! ” 

Yet it was almost mechanically she spoke, for all her 
hearing was strained to learn the outcome of that car- 
riage-discussion ; and regardless of further injury to her 
blossoms, she clapped her thin hands in delight, as Eph- 
raim settled it by saying: 

Call it up, officer ! I reckon we can stand that much. 
No, you needn’t worry about the broncho. I’ll lead him 
and follow the carriage. But you’ll have to give the or- 
ders — This old New York of yours sets a plainsman 
plumb crazy ! ” 

The officer found no cause for delay. He had made a 
few entries in his note book. The hunchback was not 
injured, she didn’t need a carriage, but if these wild 
Westerners fancied that she did and were able to pay for 
it, that was their business. 

When the summoned hack drew up to the curbstone, 
whither the two girls had retreated when the crowd dis- 
persed, the flower-seller’s pale face really glowed almost 
as pink as Jessica’s own, and her ill-shod feet danced on 
the stones, as she cried : 

Oh ! it’s true, it’s true ! What’ll they say when they 
see me ? Ch ! my soul and body ! Oh ! my ! ” 

“ You’ll have to tell where you live,” said Jessica, fol- 


Jessica’s fiest girl feiekd. 


69 


lowing the other into the vehicle and smiling at her eager- 
ness. 

“ Course. I know how. This is the way they do it, 
IVe seen ’em, lots of times, waiting outside the thea- 
ters and such. The ladies they steps in, just like I did, 
} and they speaks up at the coachy and they says: 

. * Home ’ I Or maybe, ‘ Waldorf ’Storia,’ or * Fifth 
Avenoo,’ or wherever ’tis. Hark. Hear me! Driver, 
221 Avenoo A. Back tenement, top floor.’ ” 

It might have been that palatial Waldorf Astoria, to 
which she had referred, rather than one of the dingiest 
abodes on that street which was named by a letter, and 
that Madam Dalrymple had said was too humble for any 
Waldron to know about. Yet here was Jessica going to 
it, must go, or be guilty of a rudeness less Waldrony ” 
than even that knowledge of poor Avenue A ; and it never 
entered her mind that she could send the hunchback home, 
unattended. Though, indeed, it is doubtful if she could, 
for the hackman would not, in that case, have felt at 
all sure of his fare. 

Fortunately, Ephraim knew little and cared less for 
any street distinctions. He was simply and wholly dis- 
gusted by this whole outing. The horse he bestrode 
was never meant for a saddle ; his groom’s livery was un- 
comfortable in the matter of fit — as well as pride; the 
restless Buster was extremely difficult to lead, where 
peril of the streets was constantly menacing, and only 
love for ** Little Captain ” prevented his turning about 
and making straight for Washington Square, even though 
he had to ask directions thither at every block. 

''My name’s Sophy Nestor. What’s yours? Ain’t 


70 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

this jolly? Fm the gladdest ever was ’t that horse of 
yours knocked me down. My ! But didn’t the cop want 
to hurry me off to the hospital! No, ’twasn’t him, 
though, ’twas your own plaguy self ! Do you know what 
a hospital is? It’s a place where they take folks to cut 
off their legs and things. We poor folks is what keeps 
the hospitals goin’. Them doctors they catch us and cut 
us just to learn how the rich folkses’ insides are made. 
’Cause that way. Granny says, we’re just as good as the 
rich ones, our insides are. But, maybe, you didn’t know. 
Else, you’d never ha’ said it. What ’d you say it was? 
Oh! I’m so happy! I never, never was so happy in my 
life! Won’t the children in our court and all along the 
block just stare their eyes out when they see me come 
ridin’ home in a reg’lar carriage! I never thought I’d 
be inside one, never in all my life. What ’d you say it 
was ? ” 

‘'I hadn’t said, but it’s Jessica Trent. And is it pos- 
sible that right here in this city full of all sorts of 
wagons that you’ve never ridden before ? ” 

The carriage had now passed eastward through the 
city and even to the Westerner’s untrained sight the 
streets looked more crowded, the buildings poorer and 
dingier, and the passing throngs altogether different from 
those upon Fifth Avenue. But she observed less of the 
surroundings than of this chattering girl beside her. So 
misshapen, so wretchedly clothed, and so radiantly happy ! 
She had longed for a playmate of her own age but she 
had not dreamed of one like this. 

In a few moments they had exchanged the fullest confi- 
dences. Sophy had listened wide-eyed and, at first, un- 


JESSICA’S FIRST GIRL FRIEND. 


n 


believing, to Jessica’s story of a home where one couldn’t 
even see another house, because it was so far away; 
but she had gradually accepted the fact and was lost in 
admiration of a girl who could live such a wonderful 
life yet be so friendly and nice to a mere flower-girl 
from Aveny A.” 

When they reached that dilapidated block where Sophy 
lived, and with a great air that young person had or- 
dered the driver to stop, she turned to Jessica and said : 

Now we’ll get out. Oh ! my soul and body ! It’s all 
clean over and done with ! It didn't last. Seems if it 
didn’t last a minute. Say, Jessica, if I should go back to 
that place some other day would you ride round and let 
your horse knock me down again, so’s I could come home 
in another carriage? Would you?” 

** No, I would not ! But — but if you care so much 
about it and will put on a whole frock and come to 
Washington Square I’ll ask my Cousin Margaret 
Dalrymple to take you with us in hers. But I guess I 
won’t get out. I — I’d rather not. She might not like it ; ” 
answered Jessie, more in answer to a warning nod from 
Ephraim who had now come up to them than from any 
reluctance of her own. It was, truly, a strange and most 
unlovely place. Lines of ragged clothing fluttered from 
every floor, children rolled in the gutters and fought each 
other savagely at the least provocation, street vendors 
yelled till the air was full of discord, and the whole sur- 
roundings told of that abject poverty which Jessica now 
beheld for the first time. Yet it interested her wonder- 
fully, more because it was new than because she under- 
stood it. So, when Sophy insisted, she disregarded 


72 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


Ephraim’s warning and sprang to the sidewalk, smiling 
in spite of herself at the hunchback’s uptossed head and 
the remarkable strut she assumed for the benefit of on- 
lookers. 

“ Yes, you must, Jessica Trent. Else Granny won’t 
believe it’s true and ’ll nag me ’cause the basket’s broke. 
I’ll come to Washington Square all right, but I can’t — I 
can’t put on a whole frock. I haven’t got one. This way, 
right this.” 

Seizing Jessica’s hand so forcibly she could not with- 
draw it, Sophy hurriedly led the way through a sort of 
dark, damp alley, running between two houses, to an- 
other tall tenement facing a court in the rear. Here 
there were more clothes-lines, more fluttering garments, 
more crying babies, and more outrageous odors. In- 
stinctively, the stranger pinched her nose to protect it 
against the stench, while Sophy consolingly remarked : 

The smell ain’t nothing when you get used to it. 
Granny used to mind it awful, when we first moved here 
from over Brooklyn way. That was ’fore I can remember 
an’ my father was killed. She don’t now. She don’t 
mind anything only having to live. She’s dreadful tired 
of that. Granny is, ’cause she don’t much like the folks in 
the houses. I like ’em all right. Mind the steps ! That 
third one isn’t there, and there’s a hole in all of ’em. 
I’ve got so used I know just where to step, even in the 
dark. Now, one more and we’ll be to Granny’s door. 
How funny you breathe ! ” 

I can’t — I can’t hardly breathe at all ! It’s so — so 
awful high — and — smelly.” 

“ Pinch it again. ’Tisn’t so bad in Granny’s room. 


Jessica’s first girl friend. 


73 


She keeps the winder open all the time. Say, Granny, 
Granny Briggs! Here’s Jessica Trent, away from Cali- 
fornia, wherever that is, and her horse she was a ridin’ 
on Thirty-fourth Street knocked me silly and broke the 
basket, and she brung me home in a carriage, in a 
carriage, Granny Briggs ! And you needn’t say she 
didn’t, ’cause you can go right down into the Aveny 
and see it standin’ on the stones a-waitin’ to take her 
back again to where she come from. True’s I live. 
You can see her for yourself I ” 

Jessica made her best, most “ Waldron-y ” courtesy, 
and with a grace hardly to have been looked for in such 
a place, the aged mistress of the one room returned it. 
She was a comely old body, rather ragged than untidy, 
and she wore a broad frilled cap on her head, and a piece 
of a frayed shawl pinned about her shoulders. She had 
a great pile of men’s overalls before her, to which she 
was putting the finishing stitches, “ by hand,” the only 
sort of sewing she could get to do, and for which she 
was paid a miserable price. But it, and Sophy’s flower- 
selling, was their only source of income, and she could 
afiford to waste no time, even to talk with this astonish- 
ing young visitor who had come. 

So she rose once, bobbed a returning courtesy to Jes- 
sica’s profound one, and settled back in her chair, having 
scarcely paused at all in her work. Then, still sewing 
as if her life depended on her speed — as indeed it did — 
she listened in silence to the story Sophy told, only open- 
ing her lips once to remark : 

Pity the pony didn’t finish you up while it was about 
my poor child. Life isn’t worth living for such as you. 


74 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


Or me either/’ she added gloomily, and wondering why 
the Californian didn’t depart. She wished she would. 
Sophy would have to carry home part of these garments 
before the shop closed for the night and poor folks had 
no time for idling. She expressed her desire rather 
promptly : 

'' Well, if you’ve done talking, get the leather piece 
and wrap this work up. If you hurry you’ll get there in 
time and since you’ve wasted all them flowers you’d bet- 
ter step lively. There’s just one half loaf in this cup- 
board and you’re amazing hungry — for such as you.” 

Yes’m. You help, Jessie, please; ” cried Sophy; and 
then, as if inspired by some wonderful idea, raised herself 
from the floor where she was spreading the piece of car- 
riage-cloth used to enwrap the heavy overalls on their 
journeys to and from the shop,” and exclaimed : Oh ! 
let’s do it ! Let’s ask that nice driver to carry us ’round 
by the factory on our way to Washington Square and 
carry the bundle with us. Won’t that be grand ? ” 

Jessica hesitated. She feared she was already doing 
something her guardian would disapprove, yet otherwise 
felt no sense of guilt. But instantly her hesitation van- 
ished, remembering that she had forewarned Mrs. 
Dalrymple that there might be times when she could not 
be obedient, when her own sense of what was right — for 
herself — interfered with Madam’s judgment. This was 
one of the times ! She was sure of it. 

Ephraim had nearly lost his head” in his anxiety, 
tied to his waiting outside with the two horses which he 
could neither leave nor lose; and his patience entirely 
gave way when the two girls reappeared, tugging a 


JESSICA’S FIRST GIRL FRIElfD, 75 

mighty bundle between them, Jessica tripping in her un- 
familiar skirt, but Sophy radiant in her rags and in the 
prospect of another ride. 

What the driver felt was best expressed by the fierce 
glance he shot the sharpshooter, with whom he had had 
a most enjoyable talk during their long wait, and by his 
words : 

‘‘ I look to you, sir, for payment for all this nonsense 1 ” 

The effect of this was to turn Ephraim’s wrath from 
his “Little Captain” upon the city Jehu, and to make 
him retort, savagely: 

“Plague take your cautious soul! You shall be paid 
and double paid and don’t you forget it.” 

An hour later there entered the aristocratic but now 
most anxious presence of Madam Dalrymple, two brightly 
smiling girls, chattering in the friendliest manner, and 
one of them explaining: 

“ I’m sorry. Cousin Margaret, that Buster ran away, 
and yet I’m not sorry only for fear you didn’t like it. 
This is Sophy Nestor and she lives on Avenue A. I’ve 
been to see where she lives, after Buster knocked her 
down, and now she’s come to see us, and I’m going up to 
get one of my frocks to give her, ’cause she hasn’t any 
whole one. And please, will you give me five dollars to 
pay the hackman? And for fifty cents more he’d carry 
her back again.” 

This explanation was received in ominous silence. 


CHAPTER VIL 


EPHRAIM TAKES HOME THE BUNDLE. 

The silence was broken by Madam Dalrymple’s dis- 
patching Tipkins to pay the waiting hackman. But the 
additional fifty cents was not forthcoming. In its stead 
a dime was given Sophy and she was, also, dispatched 
with a crispness that forbade her accompanying Jessica 
upstairs, in search of a new frock, and that sent “ her 
about her business with the reminder that she was to 
trouble that house no more. 

'' I will have the matter of the accident investigated 
and proper restitution made. You can give Tipkins 
your address, Sophy Nestor, and need not wait for 
Jessica to come downstairs. Tipkins, show the small 
person out.^^ 

Sophy stared but did not disobey, even though her 
soul longed for one more glimpse of the lovely girl who 
had crossed her pathway, for a moment, so to speak, and 
had vanished within the gloom of that forbidding man- 
sion. She was an impudent street child, in ordinary, 
ready to sass anybody who interfered with her and 
all the more “ touchy ” because of her deformity and the 
curiosity it aroused. But she dared not sauce this won- 
derful old lady, who looked to her like some of the fash- 

76 


EPHRAIM TAKES HOME THE BUNDLE. ^7 

ionably draped wax figures in modistes’ windows and 
whose voice was so icily quiet and stern. 

She followed Tipkins’ wake with a meekness hitherto 
unknown, but a meekness that was external only. 

Huh ! She owns the inside of this house, she does, 
but she don’t own the whole street, so there. And I’ll 
take my stand right out here in the Square, and here I’ll 
sell my flowers — or bust! Then I’ll see Jessica and if 
she can’t give it to me to-day, she’ll give me that frock 
some other day. I hope it won’t be like that riding one 
she had on, all tight and draggley, but — Goody! Them 
ten centses ’ll buy a real lot of daffies offen the market 
folks, when market’s done, to-morrow. I won’t ride in 
no street car, I won’t, but I’ll be right here in this Square 
early to-morrow morning, and Jessie and me can talk 
through that iron fence, same’s if we was close together. 
Them lions is only iron, too, and I’m not a bit scared 
of ’em.” 

These reflections passed through the hunchback’s mind 
as she received the dime from Tipkins and had the door 
of the mansion closed in her face. Then she seated her- 
self on a bench in the park till she remembered that in 
leaving the hack she had left the bundle of fresh work in 
it, which she was taking home to Granny. At that mem- 
ory she sprang up dismayed and hurried homeward, fear- 
ing many things but most of all that she would have to 
go without food for many meals to come because of her 
forgetfulness. Granny wouldn’t punish her. She rarely 
did by word or blow; but Sophy’s worst punishment 
would be the fact that the bundle of goods was lost and 
that Granny would have to make it good. Poor Granny ! 


78 JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 

So old and so discouraged ! Yet so much nicer in every 
way, the loyal grandchild thought, than that rich old 
lady in the mansion she had left. 

“ Why, Cousin Margaret ! Where has Sophy gone ? " 
asked Jessica, hurrying back to the room where she had 
left her visitor, with her own prettiest frock on her arm ; 
even that beloved one of white with scarlet trimmings 
which had been made for the happy Navidad. 

‘‘ To where she belongs, I hope. Child, you must 
never, never do such a thing again." 

But, Cousin Margaret, I didn’t do it. It was Buster, 
poor fellow, who was scared almost to death by those 
upstairs trains and the automobiles. Why, they scare me, 
too, they sound so like a flock of wild geese coming 
right down on your head. I hate them. I don’t see why 
people ride in them when there are so many horses.’’ 

For once I agree with you. I also detest them, the 
modern, disagreeable things. But that’s begging the 
question. I refer to your disobedience in visiting that 
tenement house." 

“ Why — But, Cousin Margaret ! I didn’t know — you 
hadn’t really forbidden; you’d only said I needn’t ever 
know anything about poor Avenue A and the folks live 
on it, and I wouldn’t have known only Buster made me. 
My mother says nothing happens by accident and that 
everything leads to something else. Like this, seems 
if : If Buster hadn’t thrown poor Sophy down, I’d never 
have know how poor she was and had the chance to be 
good to her. I’m going to write my mother soon as I 
can and tell her ; and that’s the first time I ever was glad 
I was going to be an ' heiress.’ Heiresses have lots of 


EPHRAIM TAKES HOME THE BUNDLE. 79 

money and oh! dear! It will take all we can ever dig 
out of that copper mine to take care of all the poor folks 
in Avenue A. I shall ask my mother to have you, or 
Mr. Hale, or whoever 'tis that keeps the money, to give 
me some right away. I can’t bear to think of any nice 
old lady, like Granny Briggs, living in a tiny room with 
only a bed and two chairs and a weeny, tiny stove in the 
corner. She was so busy she couldn’t even stop to talk 
to me a minute. It made me feel real tired just to look 
at her. I’m going to spend my whole life helping poor 
Avenue A people, or others like them, and I’m going to 
begin with Sophy and her grandmother. I just can’t 
forget them, nor — nor the poor smell! I should hate 
that worse of all, that poor smell. Wouldn’t you? ” 

Mrs. Dalrymple had listened in silence while her small 
relative thus unburdened her soul, and now replied with 
considerable satisfaction : 

“ That’s the Waldron in you. I have tried, and once 
Gabriella did, faithfully, to do what is known as ‘ slum- 
ming ; ’ but the ‘ poor smell ’ conquered us both. I trust 
it will you, and certainly you have made a good begin- 
ning, to detect it so instantly. Now, sit down and listen 
to me. You are going to be a rich young woman but 
you are not yet. You are but a very inexperienced child, 
who has just caught her first glimpse of the * seamy side * 
of life. It isn’t a pleasant side, and to you it isn’t a 
necessary one. There are numberless organized char- 
ities to provide for the wants of the poor and I subscribe 
to many of them. I will have your name put down upon 
one or two lists and it must then content you to know 
that you are helping, through others, those who need. 


80 


JESSICA tbent’s inheritance. 


Personally, you can have nothing to do with the abjectly 
poor. It isn’t fitting and it cannot be. So the next time 
you are tempted to visit any such tenement as that of 
to-day please to remember that you are under my author- 
ity and I forbid. 

Now, that is a longer lecture than I often give and 
I shall not repeat it. You must remember and obey. 
Now go, ask Barnes to make a hot bath ready for you 
and send everything you have on to the laundry. Ex- 
cept your habit, which, of course, must go to a profes- 
sional cleaner. I feel as if you had brought that ‘poor 
smell ’ into this very house ! ” 

“Oh! no. Cousin Margaret, it isn’t that. It’s just the 
ordinary smell-y kind of air is in here. I noticed it the 
moment I got here and Barnes never opens the windows 
like she ought. My mother says that the more outdoor 
air we get into the house the sweeter it is. Why, Cousin 
Margaret, we never close the windows at Sobrante, ex- 
cept in the rainy season and even then not many of 
them. 

“ And I’m sorry not to go right away as you want, 
but there’s something been forgot. We left the bundle 
of sewing in that carriage and I promised Sophy this 
frock. I couldn’t break my word, you know, so I will 
have to go just the once more and after I find the 
carriage. Is it in the street here, still ? ” 

“ Oh ! you tiresome girl ! What next ? I did not for a 
moment suppose that in inviting you to my house I was 
going to have its peace so disturbed. Plere have I been 
fretting away half the afternoon, about your disappear- 
ance, instead of enjoying my drive in the park as I 


EPHRAIM TAKES HOME THE BUNDLE. 


81 


should. Then when you do come home you do it bring- 
ing some probable infection with you. Those tenements 
are never free from some contagious disease, I’ve read, 
and I expect you’ll come down with scarlet fever, or 
diphtheria, or some other terrible thing. That would 
mean a health officer visiting and fumigation and other 
miserable annoyances. 

‘‘ But, no. The hack has disappeared, the bundle of 
sewing with it — if such there was. But you’ll not go 
seek it. I will send Ephraim and with sufficient money 
in hand to pay for all possible injuries. Now, call him 
and let’s have done with this unpleasant Nestor-Briggs 
affair.” 

Jessica obeyed, uttering no further protest. Indeed, 
if dear old “ Forty-niner ” were to take the matter in 
hand it would be promptly and well done. Fortunately, 
too, it happened that scenting a possible future customer, 
the hackman had early in their time of waiting given 
Mr. Marsh his carriage number and the address at which 
he might usually be found. Thither Ephraim departed, 
and shouldering the bundle himself, reappeared at 221 
Avenue A, just as the old lady and her grandchild were 
sitting down to eat that last half-loaf, with gloomy faces 
and all too vigorous appetites. 

When Ephraim tapped at the rickety door and Sophy 
opened it, to see him standing there with the lost bundle 
of blue denim on his shoulders, she screamed with 
delight and, catching his hand, dragged him within. 

“ Why, why hold on, there, Sissy I I just come to 
fetch this back, that was forgot, and to say in the name 
of Madam Dalrymple, my ‘ Little Captain’s ’ present 
6 


82 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


guardeen, as how she’d be glad to make good for that 
accident of Buster’s and the succeeding troubles, and to 
fetch this here little dress of Miss Jessica’s that she 
promised Sissy, yonder. Mrs. Trent made it with 
her own hands and my ‘ Captain ’ wore it a Christmas 
Day.” 

With considerable reluctance, Ephraim was unrolling 
the little parcel and displaying the charming contents. 
As he did so he could not refrain from one glance at 
poor Sophy’s misshapen back and his wonderment as to 
the garment’s fit. It actually grieved him to think of 
anything the beloved mistress of Sobrante had handled 
being bestowed in this dingy abode where even he could 
detect and shudder at the “ poor smell.” 

Nor was he at all prepared for the ready hospitality 
of the old grandmother, who, while her grandchild was 
rapturously fondling and examining the gift, all un- 
conscious of the disparaging look the sharpshooter had 
given her, quietly pushed Sophy’s chair back to the bare 
table and said: 

''We’re just eating our suppers, Mr. — ” 

" Marsh, ma’am, Ephraim Marsh, once of Californy, 
late of New York, and originally hailing from Con- 
cord, in the good old State of New Hampshire.” 

He pronounced it " Cawnco’d,” and he gave to his 
r’s the peculiar pronunciation which appealed to Granny, 
Briggs’s old heart as his offer of money had not done. 

” Marsh f Of Concord f Why, bless you, man, I was 
born there ! I myself ! ” 

" You don’t ! well, gosh all hemlocks ! If I ain’t glad- 
der’ri I would be to be struck by lightning and pretty 


EPHRAIM TAKES HOME THE BUNDLE. 


83 


much on the same order of things. A girl from 
Cawnco’d! Shake. Name, please, as it is and as it 
was.’' 

'' Briggs now, Badger it was. My father was the vil- 
lage shoemaker and cobbler when the town was young 
and small,” cried the thin old lady, her voice vibrant with 
unexpected delight, and so joyously altered in appearance 
that Sophy ceased staring at her new frock and stared 
at her grandmother instead. 

“Well, well, well! I haven’t a word to say; except 
that it’s just as my good mistress, Gabriella Trent says, 
the Lord does lead. To think of it ! Just to think of the 
strangeness of it for one single minute! Your father 
was the shoemaker that my father, the tanner, sold his 
skins to! Well-tanned hides they were, too, same as 
my own! Tanned so well and so often that I got a 
little tired of the business and lit out ’fore I was more’n 
half grown. Sophia Badger! Well, then, I reckon I 
will stay and take a bite with you, just for the sake of 
old times ; only, I guess, by the look of things you haven’t 
been used to men-folk’s appetites, lately. I saw a real 
decent-looking grocery store as I came by. I’ll step 
down and pick up a few odds and ends, if you’ll let me. 
I’ve been doing the cooking myself, lately, for the od- 
dest family I ever struck and ’twould be an agreeable 
change to eat somebody else’s truck for once. More’n 
that, there never was a New Hampshire woman that 
couldn’t cook to beat the world. How’s a rasher of 
bacon with eggs, potato chips, and a prime cup of coffee ? 
If I fetch ’em will you cook them, Sophy Badger ? ” 

“ Will I not ? ” cried the now happy old woman, no 


S4: JESSICA tkent’s inheritance. 

whit ashamed to take charity from such as hailed front 
Concord '' — magic word ! In a moment Forty-niner 
had disappeared, the bundle of work had been recklessly 
tossed into a corner, the oil-stove had been lighted, 
Sophy dispatched to a neighbor’s to borrow some needed 
dishes and frying pans, and the whole atmosphere 
changed to that of a sunny room in a well furnished 
home. Even the “ poor smell ” vanished when the siz- 
zling bacon sent up its own appetizing odors and Granny 
set the window wide to let in the evening air. With 
that sunset breeze came, also, something which these two 
had long needed and sadly; and that was — ^happiness. 

Blessed Buster! Whose careless speed had brought 
it all about! Such a supper as that Sophy Nestor could 
not remember. There was neither stint nor caution about 
it, and though her elders’ soon satisfied their own ap- 
petites, finding in their reminiscences a more delightful 
mental food, the girl ate on and on, and when she could 
do no more was not even bidden to take care of what was 
left against the morrow’s breakfast. 

But at last the feast was over. “ Forty-niner ” reso- 
lutely rose and tore himself away. He had remembered 
with compunction that not only the older people in Wash- 
inton Square would also need their supper but that Jes- 
sica would, too. So even this old friendship could not 
interfere with his love for his Little Captain ” whose 
history he had given, with all the tender embellishments 
his fond fancy pictured. Till even the world-soured old 
Granny began to think the girl whom Sophy had called 
an ** angel ” must be such, in truth ; and left alone with 
her grandchild, clasping the twenty-five good dollars 


EPHRAIM TAKES HOME THE BUI^DLE. 85 

which Madam had sent, with the offer of more if this 
should not be satisfactory, the poor soul burst into tears 
and expressions of affection. This almost frightened 
Sophy, to whom such demonstrations were new, and she 
was glad when she was bidden : 

Go to bed now, child, and dream of the good luck 
has come to us this day ! And to-morrow Fll write my 
duty on a decent sheet of paper and you shall carry it 
to that old Madam with a nice bunch of daffies — not too 
stale nor faded. Go to bed, but — you may kiss me first.” 

Back hurried Ephraim to that so different home in 
Washington Square ; and for once regardless of the 
etiquette he now so faithfully tried to practice burst into 
Madam Dalrymple’s presence, exclaiming: 

“ That does beat all my first wife's relations, as Aunt 
Sally Benton would say. That little hunchback's grand- 
mother is no real pauper as we thought. She’s just a 
bit down on her luck and as nice as lives. Why, wo- 
man alive, she hails from Cazvnco'd! Think of that I 
We were both little tackers together in that blessed old 
town and my father used to sell her father shoe leather ! 
Hooray, ^ Little Captain ! ’ That was a lucky strike Bus- 
ter made, when he hit Sophy Nestor!” 

Even Jessica looked up disturbed at this unwonted be- 
havior on her '' man’s ” part, knowing full well how 
greatly Cousin Margaret would disapprove, but the ex- 
pression of that great dame’s countenance was worth a 
study. 

After a moment of amused silence, said she: 

“ Indeed ! How remarkable I But, Ephraim, if you 
please, spare us any more rhapsodies on the Avenue A 


86 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


residents. Jessica was bad enough but — Ephraim, I 
would like my dinner.” 

Instantly, the old man saluted, wheeled with his ac- 
customed military precision and vanished below stairs. 
But he felt as if he had been dashed with icy water, while 
Jessica in sympathy found tears spring to her eyes. But, 
Jessie, alas! did not as yet realize her full privilege in 
being a Waldron. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


MORNING TALKS AND INTERRUPTIONS. 

** Cousin Margaret, are there many Avenue A’s in 
this city?^^ asked Jessica one morning, shortly after that 
first glimpse of real poverty which her visit to Sophy 
Nestor had given her. 

Madam laid down the Review she was reading — a 
Review of Paris fashions — and brought her attention to 
bear upon the girl sitting thoughtfully upon that old, 
fascinating carpet, whose half-invisible figures she was 
so fond of studying. 

I hope not ! I should say that one was amply suffi- 
cient for even so large a city as New York. But, Jessica, 
do get up and take a chair. You are rumpling your 
frock and I shall want you to go down town with me 
very soon. I have already ordered the carriage. You 
will need many more things and so shall I. Look, 
child. You have fairly good taste. What do you think 
of this design for a dinner gown? It strikes me as very 
graceful, with the long lines and its dignified simplicity. 
IVe a mind to order Melanie to make me one just 
like it.” 

Jessica obediently came and stood beside the lady, and 
tried to fix her gaze upon the colored page of models. 
But they seemed to dance before her in a maze of ragged 
garments fluttering from a ''pulley” clothes-line, and 

87 


88 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


the simpering faces of the pictured wearers took on the 
haggard features of the wretched tenement women she 
could not forget. 

'' They all look so silly, those paper women, Cousin 
Margaret.” 

Of course, odd child ! The editor could scarcely af- 
ford to pay real artists to put on the heads to his fashion- 
models after the great expense of them, alone. This is 
the most exclusive of our magazines, devoted to the art 
of dress, and the styles in this are copyrighted. That’s 
such a fine thing about them, they can never become com- 
mon. But — why do you look at me so strangely ? ” 

‘‘ Did I, Cousin Margaret ? Beg pardon, if I was rude. 
I didn’t mean it. I was just — just thinking about that 
buying me more clothes. Why must I have them? Do 
you think my mother would like it ? ” 

“ Quite likely not. She seems to have taken up very 
peculiar ideas, out there in that wilderness. But you 
happen to be living in civilization now and must be 
clothed in accordance with its demands.” 

Jessica laughed. It always amused her to hear dear 
Sobrante spoken of as that wilderness,” when her own 
memory of it was so delightful. And it was a little 
strange, had either of these two thought about it, that so 
old a person as Madam should fall into the habit of con- 
sulting so young an one as “ Little Captain.” But the 
lady had lived so long alone with servants only that it 
was a relief to discuss affairs with a real “ gentlewoman ” 
and a Waldron, even a girlish one. She had already 
learned to look into Jessica’s eyes, as into a mirror, for 
approval or disapproval of her oft-changed attire; and, 


MOKNIHG TALKS AKD IKTEKRUPTIOKS. 


89 


when it was what her own conscience warned her was 
too youthful/’ to meet a disappointed expression in the 
big, blue eyes. They were so clear and far-seeing, with 
such instant perception of the false or the true, that 
Cousin Margaret trusted them in spite of herself. 

“Well, girlie, what do you think? Would I look well 
in such a gown ? ” again rather impatiently demanded the 
Madam. 

“ I think you would look beautiful, just beautiful. You 
always do, dear Cousin. Next to my mother I think you 
must be the most handsome lady lives. I’ve seen nobody 
here in this New York, in the carriages we meet in the 
Park, nor in the stores down town — or up town, either 
— that can compare with you. I suppose that’s because 
you are a Waldron. And so — Do you mind if I say it 
right out?” 

“ Whether I do or not you are pretty sure to ' say out ’ 
whatever is in your mind. So do it now,” smilingly 
answered the other, flattered more than she acknowl- 
edged by this sincere admiration of Jessica. 

“ Well, then, I wish you wouldn’t spend any more 
money on pretty clothes. I wish you’d give it to the 
Avenue A people, and all the others like them in this 
great city. O Cousin Margaret! It just makes my heart 
ache so I can’t sleep, some nights, thinking they have no 
soft beds like ours to lie on and so few poor rags to 
wear while you, while I, have more things than we need. 
My mother thought three frocks were all I wanted. Two 
to change and a fresh one for Sunday. Only, of course, 
at Christmas time it is well to have a prettier one be- 
cause that is the best day in all the year and one should 


90 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


do it reverence. It would save you so much worry, too, 
and you wouldn’t get half so tired.” 

“Humph! Who ever said that I was tired? Not I, 
indeed, and who spoke of worry? Oh! that unfortun- 
ate accident of Buster’s! I’d rather have given a thou- 
sand dollars than have it happen. Your head has been 
full of maggots — I mean of unwholesomely grave ideas 
— ever since. I think that Ephraim fosters them, too, 
and much as I should dislike to separate you two I fear 
I shall have to do it, unless you both promise to put this 
Avenue A business out of mind and take life as you 
should, in your own station. Tired? I’m certain you 
never heard me complain, little Jessica Trent, nor any- 
body else.” 

“ No, Cousin Margaret, and that’s what makes Barnes 
and me feel so bad.” 

“ Heigho ! So Barnes is in it, too, is she ? ” 

“ Yes, of course. It’s she helps undress you and puts 
away your clothes and she says the wardrobes and closets 
are just packed with them. She says it’s a great worri- 
ment to her to keep the moths and bugs out of ’em. She 
says it would be worse, only you like silk things best and 
moths don’t much trouble the silks. She ” 

“ My dear, let me explain what mostly ‘ worries ’ our 
good soul Barnes. As lady’s-maid her perquisites are 
my cast-off clothing. This she sells for a considerable 
sum and puts the proceeds in the bank. So I shouldn’t 
think she would object to my buying as many new things 
as possible. Humph ! If Barnes has got to betraying 
bedroom secrets Barnes must be dealt with.” 

Madam Dalrymple leaned back in her chair, tossed 


MOKITIITG TALKS AND INTEREUPTIONS. 


91 


the Review aside, and tapped with her tiny cane upon 
the floor. This cane she called her affectation,” laugh- 
ingly declaring that she carried it because it happened to 
be a fad of fashionable folk just then, and only the old 
maid servant knew how sorely it was really needed for 
support. At that very moment, indeed, it was almost; 
impossible for the proud woman to prevent the contor- 
tion of her handsome features by a spasm of pain. 
Rheumatism held her in thrall, but still she laughed and 
defied it; believing that no Waldron should be overcome 
by anything so plebeian as physical distress. She would 
carry herself proudly to the end and when that came, let 
it come quickly! 

Barnes appeared and was bidden to bring hat and 
mantle; and in a few moments more the Dalrymple car- 
riage was whirling storeward, its mistress and her young 
western cousin making such a lovely picture against its 
dark cushions that more than one person looked and en- 
vied. Not the least of these a small flower-girl, clad in 
a rather soiled white-and-scarlet frock, who hid her mis- 
shapen shoulders against a building and wistfully held 
up her violets for sale. 

Five cents a bunch, lady ! Only — five — centses — a 
bunch ! ” 

Something familiar in the shrill cry caught Jessica’s 
ear, but the carriage had turned into Broadway and it 
was too late to see if that were Sophy Nestor who had 
called her wares. 

Greatly to Jessica’s grief the two girls had not met 
since that day of their brief acquaintance. Sophy had 
duly taken her stand in the Square and there had watched 


92 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


and waited for a glimpse of the fair-haired angel ” who 
had brightened a few hours of her life. But it was 
Madam Dalrymple, not Jessica, who discovered the girl 
posted as near her own iron gates as could be without 
entering them and who had promptly dispatched Tipkins 
to interview the Square patrolman on the subject. Re- 
sult : Sophy was banished as a ‘‘ nuisance ” ; and, vowing 
vengeance against everybody who had interfered with 
her, established herself on the very next corner beyond 
this policeman’s beat. Thence she gibed at and mocked 
him, with all her gutter eloquence, matching her puny 
strength against his authority and affecting him not at 
all, save that he became much interested in the defiant 
little creature and pitying her for her physical affliction, 
marveled at the peculiarities of the rich who could call 
such as she a “ nuisance.” 

There, alas ! She had waited and watched in vain for 
her new friend. It so chanced that for the first time in 
her life the little Californian fell ill of a slight cold, which 
Madam instantly magnified into something dreadful ; sug- 
gesting diphtheria, and other dire diseases, to the portly 
physician who came in his carriage and looked the small 
maid over. 

“ Nothing in the world but a mere cold, dear Madam. 
There’s not the least cause for anxiety. Keep her indoors 
for a time and she’ll be all right. “ Then he departed^ 
pocketing his goodly fee, and leaving his old patron of 
exactly the same opinion she had held all along. 

So it was small wonder that on this morning of the 
shopping trip Jessica should look almost as wan as would 
have been suitable had she been really ill. The confine- 


MOENING TALKS AND INTEREUPTIONS. 


93 


ment in that poorly ventilated mansion had told upon her 
who had lived always out of doors, and it had given her 
time to think much about that other half of the world 
which dwelt in Avenue A. 

Seeing her at last, stirred Sophy Nestor's heart to 
its depths. Her “ angel ” didn’t look happy. Sophy 
wasn't happy, herself. Granny Briggs was even more 
gloomy than of old. The visit of Ephraim had delighted 
her for the time; but when it was repeated and he had 
urged her removal to better quarters she had stubbornly 
refused. It had suddenly come to her New England 
pride that she was becoming an object of charity and she 
would not be pauperized, even by an old town-mate 
whose father had sold her father shoe-leather. 

She went even further. She sent Sophy to the Square 
with the twenty-five dollars in crisp new bills, carefully 
folded within that cheap scrap of letter paper, whereon 
she had inscribed her “ duty " and her thanks, along with 
the statement that as no injury had been done no pay- 
ment was necessary. The frock bestowed upon her 
grandchild she could not return. That had already been 
assumed and worn to bed — lest by some mischance it 
should disappear — a vision too beautiful to be real. 

In vain Ephraim argued, scolded, entreated. He was 
obliged to carry the money back, for Madam Dalrymple 
refused to touch it, regarding it as already infected by 
the poor smell " or some foul disease. And when his 
entreaties were useless, he quietly disposed the sum in 
a safe place, awaiting some future day when he could 
spend it for his old friend, he angrily declared : 

‘‘ The trouble with you, Sophia Badger Briggs, is that 


94 JESSICA trei^t’s inheritance. 

you over-ate yourself that night. YouVe been indul- 
ging your stomach with poor rations and slop victuals and 
that one good square meal just gave you the dyspepsy. 
Nothing else on earth ails you. A man with the dys- 
pepsy — or a woman either — ain’t in their right mind. 
They haven’t got a correct * sight ’ and can’t shoot 
straight. You think you’ve hit the ‘ bull’s eye ’ with this 
cantankerous pride o’ yours but you haven’t come within 
a mile of it. However, ‘ When she will she will, you 
may depend on’t, and when she won’t she won’t, and 
there’s an end on’t.’ So I’ll take myself back to my pots 
and pans and when you want me or my help just send 
that bright little girl of yours after me an’ I’ll keep step 
to the music, instanter. Good-by.” 

So it seemed that Madam Dalrymple’s anxiety over 
the Avenue A acquaintance was useless. Forty- 
niner ” and Jessica did, indeed, often discuss it, but the 
matter ended in discussion merely. 

Only, Ephy dear, I can never, never be just the 
same girl I was before I went to that dreadful place. 
It’s made this * being one of the richest,’ as I shall be, 
seem such a solemn thing. The money that will be mine 
sometime must all be used to help such poor folks. It 
won’t be mine, really, you know. My mother said that. 
She said it would be ‘ a trust put into my hands for right- 
eous disposal.’ Those were her very own words. Course, 
I haven’t the money yet. The mine is costing more than 
it pays out, now at first, but it’s coming. Mr. Ninian 
said there was no possibility of mistake. When it does 
— O Ephy! It frightens me to think I may not give 
enough or give it right or, in some way, be unfaithful 


MORlfIKG TALKS AND INTEKRUPTIONS. 


95 


to that * trust/ It makes me feel so old, so old, Ephy 
dear ! cried the hitherto careless girl, with an earnest- 
ness which touched and offended her old henchman, till 
he agreed with Madam Dalrymple that he’d “ give a 
thousand dollars if that accident had never happened.” 
“ Only,” he added whimsically, ‘‘ I haven’t the thousand, 
so it’s easy to boast ! ” 

“ One good thing there is. Mr. Hale called here yes- 
terday, to see me — to see me, Ephraim Marsh ! Think of 
that ! He came to tell me what my mother had arranged 
about my ^ spending-money.’ It seemed to be so queer, 
this being an ‘ heiress ’ yet never having any money of 
my own to use. Having to go to Cousin Margaret when 
I wanted any and always being afraid to ask. Anyhow, 
that’s all past. I am to have an allowance of five dollars 
a month spending money. All for myself. Isn’t that 
splendid? Mr. Hale says my mother wishes me to learn 
the proper use of that amount and as I grow older and 
require more it shall be furnished. As if any girl could 
possibly want more than that! Isn’t it fine? Isn’t it? 
Do say so, ' Forty-niner,’ or I shall be so disappointed.” 

“ Land, honey I I’d say anything in the dictionary to 

prevent that. I only want to give you a bit of advice ” 

Don’t, Ephy ! Don’t give it ! I’ve never had so much 
advice given me in all my life as since I’ve come to this 
New York. Just keep it to yourself, old dear ! ” cried 
Jessica, laying her hand upon his lips. 

Whence he removed it with a laugh, but stubbornly 
insisting : 

“ Yes, I must. Just one word. Don’t waste a cent of 
that sixty dollars per annum on anybody living at 221 


96 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

Avenue A, rear tenement, top floor. Flambergasted proud 
old thing ! Even the little one’s caught the distemper and 
actually turned up her little pug nose at a peppermint 
cat I bought for her, t’other day. Fact. Yet the little 
beggar looked at it so greedy — Whew ! Her eyes were 
as green as the cat’s own ! But touch it, no ! ‘I don’t 
care for pep’mints,’ quoth she. ' I mean my Granny 
don’t care to have me eat ’em.’ I bet all my old shoes 
they hadn’t a mouthful in that cupboard that minute, 
and old Sophia sewing as if she hadn’t another minute 
to live and must get everything done in that one. A 
cupboard full of pride, they had. Nothing else. 
Shucks ! ” 

“ You needn’t sneer at them, Mr. Ephraim Marsh. I 
like them for it. I used to think pride was sinful. But 
it isn’t. Look at my Cousin Margaret. Instead of com- 
plaining and groaning, like Wun Lung, when he has 
a pain, she bottles all hers up in her own breast and 
spares everybody the thought of her suffering. Barnes 
says nobody knows what ' my lady ’ endures, some of 
those privacy ’ times, when she’s shut up in her bedroom 
and never lets on. Then, when she gets a little better, 
on she puts her prettiest gown and down she comes smil- 
ing and sits at table as easy as if she had never ached at 
all. I think that’s fine, Ephy. I think that’s the best 
part of being a ‘Waldron,’ or any other high-up person, 
that one is too proud ever to Met on ’ and make other 
folks unhappy. There’s so many ways of testing a gentle- 
person; like Cousin Margaret offering a stranger caller 
a rocking chair. She keeps one on purpose, though she 
wouldn’t ‘ demean ’ to sit in it herself. If the stranger 


MORNING TALKS AND INTERRUPTIONS. 97 

takes it and rocks, that’s the end of the stranger for my 
Cousin Margaret, for it proves the stranger ill-bred. 
It’s always rude to rock in company, Ephraim, remember 
that.” 

“ Well, well, well ! There’s a lot of nonsense been 
stuffed into your curly head since we struck the trail for 
this Gotham ! Along with some sense, too. But, my 
^ Captain,’ don’t you go and get a solemn-ite ! I couldn’t 
stand that. The minute you get too good to be whole- 
some I shall upstakes and hoof it back to Californy. 
And, speakin’ of Madam, she’s begun to pay me reg’lar 
wages, same as she would any other ‘ chef,’ as she calls 
it. So betwixt your allowance and my wages — we ought 
to feed a good many hungry folks in the course of a 
year. Eh! What? Who’s ringing that bell that way? 
sounds like the crack of doom; and I vow, I believe 
they’ve smashed it! Tipkins is out, Barnes has got 
the sick headache, no ‘ emergency ’ creatur’ in for the 
day. I’ll have to answer it myself. Hope to goodness 
there hasn’t anything happened ! ” 

But there had. The direst happening which could be- 
fall that ancient mansion. 

7 


CHAPTER IX. 


LAYLOCKS.” 

On this same morning Sophy Nestor was early at her 
post, with her mended tray filled with the second-hand 
bouquets she bought from the florists or market-gar- 
deners. Second-hand in the sense that they had already 
been long gathered and were on the point of withering. 
But flowers in a city cost much money — much, that is, 
for a fund so small as Sophy’s, and fresh ones were 
wholly beyond her means. 

So she shrewdly disposed her posies on her wicker 
tray, putting the best blossom forward, freshening them 
by sprinkling at a convenient drinking-fountain, and los- 
ing no sales for want of insistence on her own part. 
Many bought from her because it was the easiest way to 
be rid of her petitions, others because they pitied her 
misfortune ; and still more because she had a deft, taste- 
ful way of arranging her wares which tempted all flower- 
lovers. So, in ordinary, she managed each day to sell 
all her stock ; and this morning, in especial, she hoped for 
a brisk trade because — Well, because she was going to 
be guilty of an extravagance which seemed almost like 
stealing. 

This very sweetest, freshest branch of laylock is 
for my Jessica Trent, if she goes ridin’ by this way. The 
market-woman throwed it in free for nothin’, ’cause she 

98 


^^LAYLOCKS.” 99 

said maybe ’twould bring me good luck. Seems if I 
might take it and give it, if I want, since I didn't have 
to pay for it. I always think the flowers belong to 
Granny and I mustn't give away none, bad's I want. 
But, to-day, if she should go a-ridin' by again — Oh! if 
she should! I'm going to hop right up into the middle 
of the street, straight again' them horses' feet, and I’ll 
yell loud enough this time to make her hear and look. 
If she looks she’ll smile, sure; and she'll stop if that 
old White Hair '11 let her. Then I’ll fling the laylock 
square into her lap, as she sets there a-ridin' on them 
cushions. Oh ! my ! ” murmured Sophy to herself, want- 
ing another listener. 

But the Dalrymple carriage did not appear. Madame 
was in privacy ” just then ; which might mean that she 
was in suffering or under the hands of that person who 
seemed so mysterious to Jessica — a professional hair- 
dresser. As Ephraim had said, Barnes had also retired 
with her sick headache, and Tipkins had gone market- 
ing. 

To waiting, watching, hoping little Sophy the big man- 
sion looked strangely quiet and deserted; and the hours 
dragged by without her having courage even to molest 
a passer-by with her shrill: 

** Posies I Only five centses a bunch ? Please buy my 
posies ! " 

Like the little maid behind those barricading iron lions, 
at that very moment speculating on the realities of life, 
Sophy herself fell pondering; and inquired of a vagrant 
cur who timidly approached: 

** Say, doggie, what makes us all so different ? I've 


100 JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 

asked Granny and all she says is, ‘ Injustice.' I don't 
know what that means. I don't know why Jessica Trent 
wears all the time a soft white dress and I — Well, I 
wear this one, too, now, only it isn’t quite so white as 
it was. But I dassent take it off to let Granny wash it, 
'cause she says it's none too big now an' 'twould pucker 
and shrink all up, 'cause it's wool. Why does she live 
in that big house and I in Aveny A? What makes her 
folks so rich and mine so poor? Hey, doggie? Yes, 
you may smell o’ my posies. Smellin’ 'em won't hurt 
any. I wish — Oh ! I wish she would come right out that 
door and walk up to me and say : ^ Why, Sophy ! How 
glad I am to see you 1 ’ That's the way I believe she'd 
talk if she was let. If that White Hair — Whew, dog- 
gie! What's that I smell? 'Tisn’t them posies. It’s 
more like smoke somewheres. Never mind. I guess 
that carriage isn’t a ridin’ out to-day, so I’ll just go close 
up to them iron gates and watch closer. If she should 
happen to come to the door to look out — If she should 
happen 1 — Why then I’d be right on hand and ready, and 
I’d fire that laylock bunch clean into the doorway and 
the hall, lickety-cut! Come on! Who's afraid? That 
old policeman is out of sight, anyway, and besides I 
don't believe he's half so mad as he pretended. I’ll walk 
right straight along as bold as — as one them lions and 
— Queer! Where is that smell of smoke. Oh! I hope 
it isn’t 221 Aveny A! But, course, it can’t be. That's 
too far off to smell.” 

Keeping a wary eye for the return of the policeman, 
Sophy assumed as nonchalant an air as possible and 
sauntered slowly up to the closed gates of the great, old- 


101 


LATLOCKS.” 

fashioned mansion, and there forcing her up-tilted nose 
between the bars resumed her anxious watch. But only 
for a moment longer. Then the awful truth burst on 
the startled child, wise in city lore ; and, with an agility 
unlooked for in her poor body, she leaped the closed gates 
and pulled at the bell. Forgotten now was the precious 
laylock,” already wilting on the hot sidewalk, forgot- 
ten fear of the policeman and of that more formidable 
White Hair — Ring, ring, ring! 

When Ephraim rushed to answer that frenzied appeal, 
still clinging to the handle of the old-fashioned bell Sophy 
fell headlong at his feet ; but was up and dashing onward 
again with the mad cry: 

“ This house is afire I This house is burnin’ up 1 
Where’s Jessica Trent? O Jessica, Jessica, Jes-si-ca!!^^ 

At that moment the “ Little Captain ” was in the gar- 
den. It was the most attractive spot to her in that es- 
tablishment, and she, with Ephraim’s help, had already 
reduced some of its disorder to a semblance of neatness. 
Now, as if guided by instinct, Sophy made her way 
thither, still screaming her warning cry: 

'' The house is afire 1 Where are you, Jessica Trent? ” 

An instant later she had her arms about her angel ” 
as if to protect that beloved one at the risk of her own 
life. Already, other voices than hers had taken up her 
cry of “ fire ! ” than which there is none more terrifying, 
and already the door which had been opened to her had 
admitted many more. 

Uproar followed. Clanging engines filled that side of 
the square. Firemen spread themselves throughout the 
house, already doomed. 


102 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

“ Must have been burning a long time. Why, this 
upper floor is but a shell, already ! ” cried one, and began 
to pound on the unopened doors to learn if anybody was 
within the great, shut chambers. 

“ Madam ? yes, she’s somewhere on this second floor. 
The front room,” stammered Ephraim, too bewildered to 
be of much use; and for the first time in his life, since 
he had known her, utterly forgetting his Little Captain.” 
Even had he remembered her he would not have feared, 
knowing her activity and common sense. To get away, 
out of the endangered structure, would have been Jes- 
sica’s natural impulse. 

Then a man in a helmet came out of the ** privacy ” 
so rudely invaded, bringing in his arms a frail, slender 
old woman, pale as death and almost as unconscious. 
After her came, shrieking down from a higher floor, poor 
Barnes; herself in unseemly deshabille and announcing 
to everybody: 

It’s my fault ! It’s all my fault ! I was cleaning — 
a gown — benzine — a candle — Oh ! what have I done, 
what have I done ! ” 

“ Destroyed one of the city’s priceless landmarks, you 
old fool, you ! ” roughly returned a struggling fireman, 
whose labor she interrupted. “ Get down those stairs — 
never mind the flames — they’ll hold you yet, if you go 
now. Get out — instantly!'^ 

Barnes went. More nimbly than she would have 
dreamed possible and followed where she saw her mis- 
tress was being carried, into the nearest drug store amid 
a crowd of curious strangers. There beside the dazed, 
half-comprehending Madam she flung herself to earth 


LAYLOCKS.” 103 

and bewailed the day that ever she was born ; till, 
suddenly recovering from her own confusion, Mrs. Dal- 
rymple said sternly : 

“ Barnes, get up. Cover my head with the corner of 
this blanket and — and behave yourself. It"s not your 
house is burning. You are not a Waldron ! 

“ No, but it's my fault. I done it. Cleaning that lav- 
ender silk, to sell it for a better price. Oh ! what shall 
I do, what shall I do ! How can I see it burn ? " 

‘‘ Do ? Repent in dust and ashes and never let me see 
your face again ! " cried the tortured Madam, who felt 
as if the hearts of all her ancestors were being con- 
sumed in that blazing pile, where so many Waldrons 
had lived and died and which she had not left, even on 
her own marriage. 

Barnes crept away; nor was it known that ever after- 
ward she did present herself before the mistress she had 
served for half a century. 

There was no saving anything. From the beginning 
the old house, that was what the firemen called a tin- 
der box," burned swiftly; and when Tipkins came back 
from market, with his well-filled basket on his arm, he 
found but a heap of smoldering ruins where had been his 
lifelong home. It seemed to the faithful old man that 
his heart broke then and there. But was ever a broken 
heart known to interfere with what an English butler 
considered his duty ? " In a moment he had found his 
mistress and stood before her awaiting her orders, al- 
most as quietly as if it had been the giving of a dinner 
order, merely. There was none of the frantic remorse 
of poor Barnes and his quietude helped Madam infinitely. 


104 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


though now, to outward appearance, she, too, was calm 
enough. 

** Well, Tipkins, we must get under shelter at once. 
Find Jessica, order a carriage — I don’t suppose our own 
is available — and take me to the Fifth Avenue hotel. 
Ask the druggist, please, if he has a private room where 
I can remain until the hack arrives.” 

The room was found, and the lady conveyed thither; 
but when Jessica was sought she was not to be discovered. 
The knowledge of this came to “ Forty-niner ” first by 
Tipkins saying, in his most impassive voice yet with 
quivering lips: 

** Just speak to your little lady. Marsh, and tell her the 
Madam is waiting. We’re to go to a hotel for the pres- 
ent.” 

“ Eh ? Who ? What ? ” demanded Ephraim, still stand- 
ing a bit apart from the waning crowd, with arms folded 
and gaze fixed contemplatively upon the smoking walls. 
** What a pity ! What a horrible pity ! ” 

‘‘ Yes. Don’t mention it, not yet, please, man. Tell 
Miss Jessica, right away. I must get Madam to her 
shelter.” 

‘'Jes-si-ca! My ^Little Captain,’ you mean? Man 
alive, isn’t she with Madam ? ” 

No. She hasn’t seen her, I fancy. Leastwise, she 
bade me find the child and fetch her. Hurry up. Madam 
Dalrymple isn’t one to mix with a crowd like this, even 
under such circumstances. Hurry, now. I’m signalling 
that hack.” 

Ephraim’s weather-beaten face went ghastly white. 
For a moment his senses whirled. The next he was 


‘^LAYLOCKS.” 105 

rushing madly into the very midst of the heated ruins, 
shrieking like one bereft: 

“Jessica! Jessica! ‘Little Captain!^ Where are you? 
Oh ! where are you ? '' 

Strong hands forced him back. 

“ Old man have you lost your wits ? Are you seek- 
ing death ? 

“ I shall be — in a minute — if — if — Oh ! Has anybody, 
anybody, seen a little girl ? A golden-haired, curly-headed 
little girl with the face of an angel? Has anybody — 
seen — my ‘ Lady Jess’? ” 

“Take it calm, old man. Tell it again. A little girl? 
Is there a child missing? Was there a little girl in that 
old house? and where?” 

“ Oh ! yes, yes ! There was — there is — there must be ! 
Where? How can I tell? We — we were sitting — talk- 
ing — just as if — as if — Oh 1 my God ! as if there was 
never any danger in the world, when that bell rang and 
that other child, that hump-backed flower one — Oh ! 
Jessica, Jessica!” 

He broke from his captors with the strength of frenzy 
and would have dashed headlong again to his own ruin, 
over that heap of flame and broken foundations, but again 
more hands and stronger held him back. Then somebody 
found voice to break again into that pregnant silence 
with the suggestion : 

“Try the rear! The alley way! The stables! They 
haven’t gone yet — We may find — ” But even that 
would-be hopeful voice did not say what they might 
find. 

To the rear they rushed, where an engine and hose 


106 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

carriage still blocked the way, playing upon the scorched 
but yet standing stables, whence some thoughtful man 
had already led the blindfolded, frightened horses. Past 
these rushed Ephraim, a dozen at his heels. Through the 
singed alley gate into that ruined garden where the fal- 
len beams and timbers lay thick and smoking. 

Then peering frantically here and there, hopefully re- 
membering now how fond his darling had been of that 
neglected spot, ** our only bit of outdoors ” here in this 
great city, Ephraim came at last upon a point whence 
gleamed something white and soft. But the white gleam 
was a motionless one, and tottering like a man in a palsy 
the old sharpshooter raised his shaking hand and pointed 
toward that distant corner, then covered his eyes with his 
trembling arm. 

Reverently, those grimed firemen lifted the scorched 
bush from what lay beneath. By the irony of fate it was 
a laylock,” and had once borne blossoms such as Sophy 
had that morning cherished. It was she they found first. 
She was lying with outspread arms, prone on the larger, 
stronger body of Jessica beneath, as if stretching her 
own limbs to the utmost, that they might wholly cover 
the other girl she adored. She had evidently forced the 
** Little Captain ” downward, and, with the instinct 
of love, broken many branches from everywhere about 
and heaped them first on the other child. Then she had 
thrown herself upon these branches and so awaited — 
What? 

A thought of what those children, that little heroine, 
had suffered in their time of terror blanched strong 
faces even now; but it was a glad cry that went up: 


LAYLOCKS." lOY 

This one isn't dead ! She's only half-suffocated with 
the smoke ! " 

Nor this ! Nor this ! This yellow-headed one is open- 
ing her eyes ! Thank God ! They are alive ! " 

Five minutes later the clang of a hospital ambulance 
came into that alley, whence the engine had swiftly been 
removed, and upon a stretcher therein were most ten- 
derly placed the two small forms of the rescued children, 
then — Clang! and away again. 

But there stood on the step in the rear a bareheaded, 
wild old man who would not be gainsaid, whose eyes 
were blind with tears, and whose constant moan was : 

** Oh ! my ‘ Little Captain I ' * Little Captain ! ' " 
Meanwhile, in a rear room of a plebeian drug store 
a haughty, astonished old lady sat and ignominiously 
waited; enduring as best she could the peeps and stares 
of the “ common " people. 


CHAPTER X. 


LEARNING LIFE. 

Jessica opened her eyes from a strangely pleasant 
dream. Angels had been hovering around her, as it 
seemed ; but, oddly enough, they had not worn the tradi- 
tional feathers and wings. Some of them were all in 
white, with white caps on their heads, and some were 
clad in blue like the sky from which they must have 
come. Presently, one of the white angels bade a blue 
one: 

Hold that cup to her lips. She is reviving.’’ 

When the cup was held, Little Captain ” obediently 
drank its contents, which proved to be something warm 
and soothing. Then she drifted away again into a sleep 
that was dreamless, this time ; and from which she again 
awoke to realize completely what had happened and in 
what sort of place she was. 

The “ white angel ” was a ‘‘ head nurse.” The blue 
one an undergraduate. She recognized the hospital uni- 
forms from those she had seen in Los Angeles, while 
Ephraim lay recovering from his broken limb. She was 
in the children’s ward. Rows of white beds lined each 
side of the long room, and on each bed rested a child. 
On the very next cot to her own, with some doctors and 
more nurses fussing about it, was Sophy Nestor. She 
heard one of these saying: 

108 


LEARNING LIFE. 


109 


That is quite curable. It would be a most interesting 
case. After she recovers from this shock I’ll investi- 
gate.” 

Then that doctor went away and the rest soon followed 
him, leaving only a sweet-faced woman in blue hovering 
between the two cots, whereon lay these last ** emerg- 
ency ” cases. To her Jessica spoke: 

“ Is Sophy awake ? ” 

** She is waking. Try not to frighten nor disturb her. 
How are you feeling?” 

**A11 right. I want to get. up and go home. Oh! I 
forgot! I haven’t any now, but go to my Cousin Mar- 
garet, wherever she is. She must be somewhere ! ” 

Don’t excite yourself, dear. You shall go soon, for 
you’ve had a wonderful escape. Do you suffer at all ? ” 

** Some. My hands, my face are smarty and queer. 
But — did Sophy get burned instead? Oh! she was so 
good! So strong I couldn’t make her stop hiding me 
with her own self, though I tried and tried. Until it 
got so hot and I — I couldn’t think right. The darling 
girl! She — Why! What makes her lie that way on 
her face?” demanded Jessica, rising on her elbow and 
staring across to the other limp little figure whose hump 
protruded under the light bed-covering. 

The nurse knew it was better to appease one patient's 
curiosity than to arouse the other, more badly injured 
one. 

** Lie still and I will tell you. She is a heroine. Her 
back is rather badly scorched and burned, but not fatally 
so. It has been carefully dressed and it is more com- 
fortable for her to rest as she is doing now than to lie in 


110 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


a more natural position. She was a brave little creature 
and, practically, saved your life. Try to help her get 
well by keeping very quiet.” 

In ordinary, Jessica was not a crying girl, but the 
tears chased themselves now down her own cheeks, white 
with applications to relieve that smarting ” to which she 
had acknowledged but that already, in view of Sophy’s 
greater hurt, seemed absurdly trivial. 

Nor did the wise attendant try to stop this flood, a 
sure relief to startled nerves and grieving heart. But 
after a brief time Jessica ceased weeping and whispered: 

“ Do you know where my folks are ? ” 

“ There’s an old man in the waiting-room who came 
with you. He is almost wild with anxiety and, if the 
head-nurse allows, I will bring him in to see you for a 
moment. On condition that you will not excite yourself 
nor the other child.” 

“ Oh ! I will be as quiet as quiet ! It’s Ephy ! I’m 
sure it’s my darling ‘ Forty-niner ! ’ Fetch him, please, 
right quick I I’ll be as good as you want, only let him 
come.” 

He came, half-blinded by his grateful tears, as he 
bent above this darling of his old age, too thankful to- 
ward Heaven for speech, and only able to clasp and un- 
clasp her small hands in his own trembling ones, till 
she asked in a whisper : 

‘‘ Where is my Cousin Margaret ? ” 

“ I — I don’t exactly know. Some hotel, Tipkins was 
taking her. I’ll seek her now and tell her the good news. 
Oh ! my lamb, my lamb ! ” 

“ There, Ephy, dear ! Be good. Now go and tell her 


LEARNING LIFE. 


Ill 


I’m all right and tell her, too, how splendid Sophy Nes- 
tor was. She covered me with her own self so that I 
should not be burned, — she would rather be herself ! Go 
tell her, tell her quick ! She thought Sophy wasn’t — a 
Waldron, but, Ephy dear! She is more Waldron-y than 
any of us ! Go tell her, and come back soon. I guess I 
can be * discharged,’ maybe right away. I’m not the 
hurt one, only Sophy. And I’ll stay just long enough to 
make her feel how splendid a place a hospital really is 
and not that dreadful one she used to think.” 

Indeed, he had to go. He had stayed as long as the 
nurse thought wise, but it was a far different old man 
who left that house of mercy from him who had entered 
it, believing his darling done to death. 

By the very next morning Jessica was up and dressed; 
her scorched clothing replaced by an outfit Madam had 
promptly sent, with the request that the little girl be 
taken to her at her hotel as soon as the authorities 
deemed it safe. That, they decided, might be almost at 
once. The hospital was overcrowded, there was no 
room for those who did not really need attention, and 
Jessica’s healthy frame had promptly recovered from the 
shock of her frightful experience. There remained only 
the bit of talk that was to be allowed between her and 
her rescuer. Sitting with her own blistered hands rest- 
ing on that part of Sophy’s body which was least covered 
by bandages, Jessica said: 

“ I’ve got to go away now, darling, but I shall come 
back. You’re going to get well right soon, the doctors 
say, and oh! Sophy, I heard one of them say, too, that 
your back could be made as straight as mine! Think 


112 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

of that ! Never to have to be afraid of people looking at 
you, never to be weak and tired there, any more ! Oh ! 
aren’t you glad you came ? It isn’t a real hunchback, you 
know; only you were let to fall when you were little 
and got twisted somehow. I think it’s like a fairy story. 
Anyhow, it’s just what my darling mother says: ^ Life 
is a chain.’ One thing after another form the links of 
it and none of them happen except God wills. I don’t 
see why He willed that my Cousin Margaret should lose 
her beautiful old home that seemed more to her than 
anything in this world. All her pretty clothes and old, 
old ' antiques,’ and just had her life saved. Why, it 
seems as if all those hunting people on that carpet in the 
back drawing-room must have felt the flames and suf- 
fered ! 

“ Never mind. That’s past. What she will do next 
I don’t know ; only this I’m sure of, she’ll let me come to 
see you every day; and maybe — maybe, she’ll come, too. 
Now, I’m going. Ephraim is here with the carriage and 
I must. If you’d like it better, maybe my Cousin Mar- 
garet will let me pay for having you in a ' private ’ 
room away from ” 

No, no, no ! I don’t want to be private ! I want to 
feel there are heaps and slathers of folks all around me, 
just as there used to be in Aveny A. I’d die to be alone 
with nobody but them doctors waitin’ to cut me up.” 

“ Now, Sophy Nestor, you quit that 1 I’ve told you be- 
fore that you didn’t know a thing about hospitals. I do. 
I’ve lived in one once, away home in California. They’re 
the blessedest places are. Your Granny Briggs is coming 
to see you this morning. Ephraim is to fetch her in the 


LEAKNING LIFE. 


113 


carriage, after he takes me to my old lady first. Isn't 
that funny? Each of us has our own old lady that we 
think is the nicest in the world! Now, I'm going. 
Hear me say ! Before you've been in this pleasant place 
even another day you'll think it’s just as nice as I do. 
See if you don’t. Now, good-by. I can't begin to 
thank you. Words couldn't do it. Maybe deeds can, 
and I’ll try them. Good-by. Try to be happy and you’ll 
get well quick. Good-by, good-by I ” 

Jessica found her Cousin Margaret deep in consulta- 
tion with Madam Melanie and that other dressmaker 
from the side street. But the Madam instantly ceased 
speaking to these waiting modistes, to clasp the girl in 
her arms and to hold her close, close. In that one firm 
embrace was a world of meaning, from this undemon- 
strative old dame. Then she released the child, merely 
retaining one small hand in her own, while she con- 
tinued her conference concerning the replenishing of the 
wardrobes so completely destroyed by fire. Neither she 
nor Jessica had anything left save what they had escaped 
in; and the simple ready-made suit purchased to leave 
the hospital in that morning. 

The discussion was short. Both these women who had 
charge of Mrs. Dalrymple’s attire knew readily what she 
would require and undertook that part of the order 
should be put into the hurry ” department, and be 
forthcoming almost immediately. That business over, 
they departed and the two descendants of the race of 
Waldron were left to themselves, the younger of them 
scarcely daring to look at the elder, dreading her dis- 
tress. She need not have feared, in the least. 

8 


114 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


Well, my dear, this is unexpected, indeed. But we 
are very comfortable here until we can get away out of 
town. We will go as soon as possible. As soon as we 
have clothes fit to go in. It’s early for Newport but I 
think we’d better settle there at once. I’ve been looking 
over an agent’s list of furnished ^ cottages ’ and fancy one 
of them will do. I must send for my man of business 
first. I think it rather strange he has not already called 
upon me.” 

Madam had taken one of the prettiest suites in the 
hotel, with its comfortable privacy, and already seemed 
so much at home and so outwardly content that Jessica 
wondered. Only for a moment, when a servant came to 
announce a caller, did a spasm of pain cross the fine 
old features, and give a touch of sharpness to the quiet 
voice, as she repeated: 

“ I have already given orders that I can receive no 
visitors at present. Kindly see that these orders are at- 
tended to.” 

Then Jessica was bidden to relate again the story 
Madam had already learned from other lips and the girl 
was delighted to hear her kinswoman announce : 

“ I will make my first call upon that child, Sophy. 
We must befriend her. Mr. Hale has been here and 
has telegraphed your mother of — of everything. Now, 
my dear, hand me the morning paper; and make your 
own self comfortable. If you wish to write to your 
mother, there are the materials on that desk in the 
corner.” 

So Jessica wrote : 


LEAKKING LIFE. 


115 


“ My Dearest Mother : 

I am alive. That's about the first thing I can think 
to say. So is our Cousin Margaret. So is everybody 
else. It was all Barnes’s fault. She said so herself. She 
used benzine, that seems to be a catchy sort of stuff, and 
a match near it and first she knew the flames were so 
big she couldn’t stop them. She tried. Ephraim told 
me. She hasn’t been near since and never will, but he 
saw her on the street outside the hospital where they took 
Sophy and me, ’cause she was afraid that her careless- 
ness had made her a murderer as well as a house-burner. 
She said she would have been a murderer if I had died, 
or Sophy, but we didn’t and she isn’t. I hope I will 
never see her again, now, because she would always make 
me feel angry for my Cousin Margaret. 

‘‘ O mother dear ! I think she is the wonderfullest wo- 
man ever could be ! I know and you know that she loved 
the home in Washington Square beyond words, ’cause 
though it was all tumbling to pieces in spots and the 
things inside were getting so worn out, she wouldn’t sell 
it even for heaps and heaps of money. I know her heart 
is just broken inside of her but the break doesn’t show 
on the outside, in her face, not the least littlest bit. She 
sits just as proud in her old ‘ comfy ’ wrapper as she used 
to in her beautifullest silk gown. Once I tried to say 
something nice to her, to sort of comfort her if I could, 
and she just looked at me so queer. ^ My dear, spare 
me. A Waldron never whines, but accepts what comes 
of either good or ill, as it is meant and sent.’ I’m so 
glad she doesn’t whine, nor complain. Granny Briggs 
does. Granny isn’t a bit Waldron-y, though Sophy is — 


116 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


even more than anybody I know. I think it must be the 
highest kind of aristocracy to be willing to give up one’s 
life to save another’s, and that’s what Sophy was. Oh! 
I love her, I love her! 

My Cousin Margaret is going to the hospital to visit 
Sophy the very first place she does go after her clothes 
come. Till then she stays in her rooms, there are several 
of them, and denies herself to everybody who comes. 
She’s had lots and lots of calls and offers of a temporary 
home but she doesn’t accept. She doesn’t need, she says ; 
yet if she did she would accept very gratefully. Hasn’t 
she the realest, best kind of pride ? Oh ! I should like to 
be just like her, when I am old, only not so fond of putting 
on new clothes all the time. I heard one the bell-boys 
tell another that she was : " The great Madam Dalrymple, 
the highest up there was in the world of fashion. That 
it was a prestige for this hotel to have her live 
here so soon after the accident, and would bring other 
patrons.’ 

“ Cousin Margaret is going to take a cottage at New- 
port. That is a place by the sea, if you don’t know. She 
says it will be a big house with every ' convenience ’ in it, 
so I don’t see why they call it a ‘ cottage.’ Cottages in 
California are so small and haven’t many rooms in them. 
Never mind. I’m learning things all the time that as- 
tonish me. I guess my education has begun already. I 
remember that Mr. Ninian said that * Education meant 
learning how to live, to get the best out of life.’ Seems 
if our Cousin Margaret has got a good deal of the best, 
since she can stand such an awful sorrow as losing her 
home and not ^ whine ’ once. 


LEARNING LIFE. 


117 


** She seems more disturbed because her ‘ man of 
business * hasn't called than by anything else. She 
hasn't any money, course, just getting out of a burning 
house that way, not until he comes and brings her some. 
She has lots of what she calls * credit ' and the hotel folks 
are terrible polite to her, but she'd rather have the ‘ cash 
in hand ' to pay in advance. She has never run in debt in 
her life. She says that is very ‘ plebeian ' and she dis- 
likes plebeian-y things. She sent Tipkins after that ‘ man 
of business ' and he couldn't get in. He said the bank- 
office was closed and nobody answered. There were a 
lot of folks standing around outside the office and he 
said maybe they had scared the man of business by a 
* run ' on the bank. He must be a funny kind of a man 
that would be scared by a few folks just running! 

Now I must stop for a few minutes. If there's any- 
thing more to tell, after we've had the dinner the waiter 
is bringing. I'll write it then. I’m so glad Mr. Hale tele- 
graphed you, so you wouldn't worry, after reading about 
the fire in the telegraphic column of the paper. Mr. 
Hale said that bad news traveled so fast that good news 
had to hurry up and catch it. He is such a nice man. 
He is going to bring his daughters to see me, soon as they 
are out of school for the year. 

“ Good-by, for a little while, 

'' Jessica." 

The letter was to be resumed and a most important 
postscript added. As the girl left the desk, eager for 
the tempting dinner being brought into the room and 
feeling her blistered fingers sadly painful from her writ- 


118 


JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 


ing, she was startled by the expression of Madam Dal- 
rymple's face. 

The lady’s eyes were closed, she was very pale, the 
newspaper she had been reading had fallen from her 
nerveless fingers to the floor, and she looked as if, at last, 
the full force of the calamity that had befallen had 
crushed her beneath its weight. She neither saw nor 
heard the entrance of the waiter with his tray nor when 
Jessica anxiously demanded: “ Oh! what is the matter? ” 
did she answer. 


CHAPTER XI. 


LETTERS AND CHANGES. 

It was some time later when, by Madam Dalrymple’s 
request, Jessica added that postscript: 

Dearest Mother : 

'' Something worse than the house burning has hap- 
pened. The ‘ man of business,' has run away and taken 
all our Cousin Margaret's money with him. At least 
there's nothing left of it, nothing at all. She hasn't any 

of that needed ‘ cash in hand ' except the ground the 

burned house stood on. That seems funny, but the 

ground can be sold and bring money for itself. Till 

then Cousin Margaret has had to borrow a little of Mr. 
Hale. The worst of it is, she says — I heard her talking 
to Mr. Hale and another lawyer she'd sent for to come 
here right away quick — the worst is that she is in some 
way responsible for some other people losing their money. 
She had allowed her * man of business ' to ^ speculate ' 
somehow — Oh! I don't understand, nor does even she. 
Except that not only has all she thought she had gone, 
nobody knows where, but some she didn’t know she 
owed, and that she must pay back if she's ever to know 
another happy moment. 

She and the lawyers talked till she got dizzy, and I 

119 


120 JESSICA teekt’s inheritance. 

had been all the time. Then when I heard her dear old 
voice go sort of trembly I dared to put my arm around 
her and to remind her : * Don’t you worry, Cousin Mar- 
garet, my mother and I are Waldrons, too, and we’ve a 
copper mine in California that they say is full of money. 
When we get enough dug out we will pay all those folks 
and give you back all that man ” ran away with. I think 
that losing that money isn’t half as bad as losing that 
old home ; and don’t you care a mite ! ’ 

That was right, wasn’t it? And the two lawyers 
looked at one another quick and Cousin Margaret gave 
me a little squeeze, and said : 

** ‘ That’s the Waldron speaking in you, dear. But this 
is my affair, not yours nor Gabriella’s. I shall make 
everything good. Nobody can suffer through me.’ 

Then Mr. Hale cried out real sharp, like he used to 
when the ‘ boys ’ plagued him and said : ‘ That dastardly 
coward! I hope they’ll catch him and shut him up for 
life!’ But the Madam just looked at him, quiet and 
stern, and answered : ^ Don’t say that. It doesn’t be- 

long to tis to take vengeance. The poor wretch is suffer- 
ing more than I am, if he hasn’t already taken his own 
life. Let him go. What is left to me is to get the high- 
est possible price for the Washington Square land and to 
use it as impartially, judiciously, as I can. Will you two 
take care of that business for me, reserving for your- 
selves a just payment for your services? ’ 

“ And they said they would but would take no pay. 
But Cousin Margaret smiled and said the future would 
arrange all that. So they went away, and she told me to 
tell you we could not go to Newport now. She has a 


LETTEKS AKD CHANGES. 


121 


little bit of a place on the Hudson river, somewhere, 
that she bought once when she was traveling through the 
town just because it was so pretty and would make a nice 
home for Tipkins and Barnes, if they should outlive her 
and get married. Now, of course, Barnes never will live 
there, but Tipkins will. He says he will never leave our 
Cousin Margaret while he has strength to serve her, and 
that he has money in the bank enough to keep us all a 
good long time. He wants his Madam to take it and use 
it as if it were her own, which it was once. But she 
thanks him just as sweet and says: ‘Not till need be, 
Tipkins.^ I think that was lovely of him, don’t you? 
Ephy is full of schemes for making money for us all. 
But of course, nobody need to worry ’cause of that cop- 
per mine we have; and I’m rather glad we aren’t 
going to that Newport, though I would have liked to see 
the sea. 

“ Cousin Margaret has counter — counter-demanded, I 
guess it is — all the orders about the new, fine clothes. 
She is to have just a few of the very plainest for herself, 
and thinks I won’t need many either. Till the fall when 
I go to Madam Mearson’s school. Even there I shan’t 
want them, and I am so glad. I think it takes so much 
trouble to keep changing as I would have had to do if we 
had gone to that Newport, where rich people live. 
‘ Schoolgirls should dress simply ’ she says. 

“ Cousin Margaret says there is a tiny garden beside 
the little house where we will live, in the country, and 
Ephy says he will be able to take care of that. If she 
will, that Granny Briggs may go with us, too. Cousin 
Margaret says she must befriend her, some way. 


122 


JESSICA treat’s IHHERITAKCE. 


Now this is the real good-by. Ephraim is going to 
put the letter in the mail-box and I do wish it could get 
to you right away. It is so long — a week to go and a 
week to come; two whole weeks between us, mother 
dear. 

“ Your loving 

‘‘ Jessica.’’ 

A week later saw Madam Dalrymple and her house- 
hold installed in the small cottage up the river. Tipkins 
was still in charge of the house affairs, but old Forty- 
niner” had encased himself in a suit of the overalls 
which Granny Briggs finished off ” and announced 
himself as ‘‘ head gardener,” with Little Captain ” first 
assistant. 

Sophy Nestor was still in hospital. She was rapidly 
recovering from her burns and as swiftly learning to 
love the refuge she had found. Her heroism had won 
her many friends ; also her willingness, now, to have the 
surgeons experiment ” with her deformity. Concern- 
ing this, there was diversity of opinion, with the majority 
inclining to the belief that cure was possible. 

‘‘ Well, Doctors, if both the child and her grandmother 
approve, do you go ahead and try. Let no possible ex- 
pense be spared. The girl whose life she saved can well 
repay for any outlay,” Madam Dalrymple had assured the 
hospital staff on the occasion of that memorable visit 
she had made to little Sophy. 

To the crippled child, this was almost more wonder- 
ful than the hope of being made straight. To have this 
beautiful “ White Hair ” come to that ward and have all 


LETTERS AJSTD CHANGES. 


123 


the children in it know that the visit was to her, Sophy I 
All just because she had once done — Why, what any of 
them might have done if they had had the chance ! 

Roses ? Roses — for me — Sophy ? Oh ! Ma’am, I ain^t 
worth it! I ain’t half worth it! Roses — roses cost a 
lot. I know. And ’twas only a laylock that was give to 
me, free for nothing, that I was going — ^Just laylocks; 
but roses ! Them kind grows in the hot-houses, I know. 
I hope — I hope nobody didn’t go without their dinner to 
buy ’em ! ” protested the flower-girl, half-crying, half- 
weeping from sheer delight. 

“ Ah ! no, little maid. Nobody would need do that. 
Why do you say so ? ” asked the wonderful Madam in her 
softest voice, that sounded so like a caress. 

Why, Jessica said you was poor, too, now. Don’t 
seem so. Don’t ’pear as if it could be,” returned the 
child, critically regarding the plain street costume of her 
visitor, and which to the tenant of Avenue A looked as 
fine as it was new. 

“ Well, little girl, poverty is comparative. You don’t 
understand that yet, but you will some day.. As for you 
I trust you will never again be as poor as in those old 
days before Buster made you acquainted with my young 
cousin. By-the-way, the broncho is going to be a very 
happy horse. He is going to live in the country, away 
from all elevated trains and jangling street-cars, though 
he’ll not wholly escape from automobiles. Even the coun- 
try isn’t free from those detestable things.” 

Ain’t it, ma’am ? What’s it like, that country ? ” 

Jessica listened, amazed to hear Sophy talking so 
glibly to her stately Cousin Margaret and to hear that 


124 


JESSICA TEENT'S INHEKITAUCE. 


lady replying with so much graciousness to this once most 
objectionable girl from Avenue A: 

“ What is the country like ? Like Central Park, only 
infinitely lovelier. IVe a bit of good news for you, too, 
my child. That good grandmother of yours is going 
with us to our new home. Ephraim Marsh says she 
‘ hails from Cawnco’d/ same as himself and that she is 
wearing her heart out here in the great city. He says, 
besides, which is more to the point, that she is a fine cook. 
So she has promised to go and live with me and do the 
family^s cooking. As soon, then, as you are able to come, 
you shall visit us and her. Visit, at first, only; because 
if you are to be made just like you’d wish to be, it will 
take many months, maybe even years. You will really 
live at the hospital, while Granny lives with us. But it’s 
only an hour or two between ; short journeys by rail or 
boat, a bit of a ride behind Buster — and you will be in 
the country itself.” 

“ Oh I O-h ! ” gasped poor Sophy, too greatly overcome 
for further words. 

Now, Jessica, bid )^our little friend good-by. You 
may write to her and maybe she can write to you — 
if ” 

“ Oh ! ma’am, I can, I can ! Granny made me go to 
night school and I can write real plain. If I had any 
paper, or money to put on a stamp on the envelope. 
You can get them to a drug store and they cost two cents. 
The stamps do. Maybe, if you didn’t mind, some these 
hospital folks ’d buy one these roses. Then I could. If 
you didn’t mind so very much.” 

‘*Can you? Well, I fancy a stamp may be procured 


LETTERS AND CHANGES. 


125 


even right here in this hospital and without disposing of 
your flowers. I will see that it is provided, with all else 
that is necessary. Ah I you poor, beauty-starved child, 
to whom roses suggest but sordid money! Well, it will 
not be long till you gather roses from bushes out of 
doors, and may they there suggest to you only God’s 
goodness and love ! 

This was a rare outburst from the reticent Madam; 
who was widely known for her liberal, organized ” 
charities; but who had hitherto contented herself with 
such, missing the greater delight of bestowing herself — 
her personal interest and sympathy, which alone make 
charity worth anything to its recipient. 

Then Cousin Margaret bore Jessica away. Granny 
came for a brief, rather unsatisfactory visit, since the 
new surroundings m which she found her grandchild 
always rather abashed her. Ephraim flew in and out, 
like an excited old child, with his arms full of bundles — 
of more or less useless contents, like a toy bear and a pine- 
apple cheese — and at last Sophy was alone in that hos- 
pital she had so dreaded. 

For a time she felt deserted ; but it was only on the sec- 
ond day that a letter came from Jessica, containing a 
stamped, addressed envelope, that made the safe delivery 
of Sophy’s answer a sure thing. Jessie’s eifusion was not 
quite so well written as these she had sent home to Cali- 
fornia, and this explained itself: 

** My Dearest Little Heroine : 

We got here all right and Tipkins met us to the sta- 
tion. He’d come up ahead of us on the boat with Buster 


126 


JESSICA tkent's inheritance. 


and Buster was the trouble. The broncho was all right 
on that boat and being led up to the cottage — it’s just 
lovely! No bigger than lots in California, so I like it 
better. Buster had never been harnessed, never in all 
his darling life. But I don’t know how we should get 
along without him, ’cause he’s the only horse we have. 
Now. Think of that! Just one little bit of a broncho to 
do all the teaming and plowing and everything for a 
whole cottage full of folks. Only he won’t team and he 
won’t plow and he won’t — most everything. You know 
the span and the carriages and the coachman and foot- 
man were all sold after the fire. I mean the horses were. 
They went to pay our board at that big hotel where it 
costs a lot of money to stay even a single day. So that 
horse — Buster I mean, this time — he wouldn’t draw the 
little bit of wagon Tipkins had hired to take your grand- 
mother and Cousin Margaret up the hill in to the cot- 
tage, and they thought they’d have to walk. Tipkins was 
mad and struck Buster and that made me angry, too. 
Ephraim lost his own temper and said he’d get ahead of 
that beast or bust. Fancy ! * Forty-niner ’ calling my 

broncho a ' beast ’ ! 

“ After all it was I that got ahead, not Ephy. I just 
got on Buster’s back and chirruped to him and off he 
went, just as if we were starting to race some other 
horse across the mesa. Never knew he had that wagon 
with folks in it behind him, till I told him to stop ; and 
then we had got home and it was too late for him to fuss. 

Now, Ephraim says, Fll have to ride him while he 
plows that garden, for he’s going to have the best, old- 
fashionedest Yankee kind of a garden that he’s seen 


LETTERS AND CHANGES. 


127 


since he left Concord. He’s going to raise the same old 
marrowfat sort of green pease that Sophia Badger used 
to eat when she was a girl, and I do wish you could see 
that dear old lady ! You’re going to, soon, anyway. But 
she is the happiest! Why, she just picks up handfuls of 
green grass, even, and buries her nose in it and says it 
‘ carries her back to a time when she tramped barefoot 
after the cows in the pasture.’ I shouldn’t think that 
would make an)^body extra happy, but it seems to, her. 
And this morning she came across a little plant of what 
she called ‘ Southernwood,’ or ' Old Man ’ — a queer, 
smelly kind of bush that you never sold, I guess, from 
your tray — and she burst right out crying! Said her 
own mother used to always carry a sprig of it to meeting 
when Granny was a mite of a child. She could see her 
mother’s face, just smelling it, she said. Fancy! Being 
the mother of a grandmother ! Doesn’t that seem almost 
too old to be believed? 

“ My Cousin Margaret is almost as happy as your 
Granny. She says life is so simple up here, and it does 
her so much good to see anybody so glad as Mrs. Briggs. 
I guess we’re all pretty glad and I am so busy that I 
didn’t write before, because you see Ephy went right at 
that garden this very morning and I’ve been riding 
Buster to make him drag that plow without kicking it 
out of the furrow every other step. 

Do you know, Sophy Nestor? I — it seems almost a 
wicked thing to say — but, haven’t lots of happy things 
happened just because that old house burned up? And 
my Cousin Margaret is more beautiful than ever. She 
doesn’t worry a bit. Your grandmother and Ephraim 


128 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


amuse her all the time and Tipkins is even more devoted 
than he used to be. 

‘‘ There seems to be money enough for the little we 
need, now we don’t have to buy so many clothes, and — 
Ephraim is calling me. He wants to go to a seed store 
at the Landing and he can’t make Buster draw the wagon 
to fetch him and the tools back again unless I ride on 
his back. What a good thing it was all around that Ephy 
came to this side the continent and brought Buster with 
him ! What a good, happy, splendid thing life is, any- 
way ! Write right away. 

Your loving, ever grateful 

Jessie.” 

The reply to this long letter was brief and to the point. 

Deer Jessica Trent : 

“ I’ll come Soons i Can. I Cant Now. i’m strapped on 
a Bord gettin’ my crook straTened. I’m Coin’ to Bee a 
traned Nurse and live to a hospittle. I’m goin’ to be 
strapped for — ever And Ever, ’seems if. i’ni the glad- 
dest ever ’t the house burnt up an’ Buster nocked me 
down an’ everything, sophy nesTor. Yours Till deth. 
Cross my hart, good By.” 

This letter did not reach Jessica, of course, until the 
day following the trip to the Landing she had mentioned 
in her own. A trip that amused the people whom she 
passed along the way because of her novel method of 
making the broncho “ go.” A trip that was to have a 
most astonishing ending and one to fill the Little Cap- 
tain’s ” soul with unspeakable delight. 



“She rose once, bobbed a returning courtesy to Jessica’s profound one.” 

(See page 73) 









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CHAPTER XII. 


MEETING AND PARTING. 

The seed-and-tool store was at the Landing, close be- 
side the wharf where the river boats stopped, on their 
way up and down. Across the narrow roadway was, also, 
the railway station. Between the whistling of engines, 
the rumbling of trains, it proved a most confusing spot 
for plain-reared Buster, and while Ephraim entered the 
store to make his gardening purchases, the broncho did 
his utmost to stand on his head or his hind heels, and in 
either direction to cast his rider to the ground. 

In vain. The girl had been saddle-bred from her very 
infancy and wholly understood the vagaries of this four- 
footed friend. 

“ Now, boy, behave yourself. I’ll neither slip over 
your nose nor your tail. Aren’t you ashamed of your- 
self? What’ll the people around all think of California 
horses, if you cut up like this? Whoa! There now, 
that’s better! Silly Buster! To be afraid of a train of 
cars that aren’t coming near you. Look at them. See. 
You must get acquainted with them, ’cause you’ll often, 
often see them. Steady, now. Good boy, Buster ! ” 

A train had whizzed up to the station over the way and 
whizzed off again. The track lay behind the station ; so 
that, at first, alighting passengers were invisible from the 
9 129 


130 JESSICA TKENT'S mHERITAKCE. 

Spot where Jessica waited, perched on the pony's back, 
which wore a harness instead of a saddle. Even to her it 
was not a comfortable arrangement and a less experienced 
rider would have found it almost impossible. 

Suddenly, the broncho’s eyes wavered from the train 
they had watched disappearing northward and came back 
to a passenger just coming into sight around the station. 
A quiver of some fresh emotion ran through all his sturdy 
frame, and with a wild whinny of delight he threw up his 
head and bolted across the roadway. Another instant 
and Jessica was off his back, in the arms of this pas- 
senger, crying incredulously: 

“ Mother I Why, mother ! Is it you ? Is it my — 
Mother! ” 

** My darling, my darling ! It is true, then, that you 
are quite safe, unharmed?” returned Mrs. Trent, fold- 
ing her daughter close, then holding her off at arm’s 
length, the better to assure herself of the girl’s safety. 

“ And Buster saw you first ! Think of that ! The pony 
saw and knew you first! But when — why — where? 
Ned? How happened — ” demanded the excited ^'Little 
Captain,” without pausing for answers to her hurrying 
questions. 

'‘Why? because it had to happen. Did you think I 
could learn of your peril in that terrible fire and not 
come to find you for myself? Indeed, I started within 
the hour after Mr. Hale’s telegram arrived, even though 
it was most reassuring and I see now quite true. But, 
why are you just here in this place? I stopped at Mr. 
Hale’s office to find the address of Cousin Margaret, but 
he was out and only an office boy there. Fortunately he 


MEETING AND PARTING. 


131 


found it on the address-book and I took the next train 
north. O my darling ! My darling little Jess ! ” 

During this fresh embrace a familiar voice broke upon 
that rhapsody of reunion, exclaiming: 

Not a mite more’n I expected. Fve been reckoning- 
time and I ’lowed to-day was about the limit. How are 
you, ma’am ? ” 

Mrs. Trent released her daughter to take the out- 
stretched hands of Forty-niner,” and to cry, in re- 
sponse : 

'‘You expected me, Mr. Marsh? But I might have 
known. You were always wise and sympathetic. You’d 
have done just the same, wouldn’t you?” 

“ Sure. Now, ma’am, I’ve been cipherin’ how’s best 
to get up-hill to that there cottage where we live now. I 
reckon the ‘ easiest way is the purtiest way ’ an’ that’ll be 
for me to lead this cantankerous old broncho, that ‘ hasn’t 
sense enough to go in when it rains,’ and you and ‘ Little 
Captain ’ ride up in a ‘ bus.’ There’s two or three of 
them always standin’ round, waiting for customers. Bag- 
gage, ma’am ? Where’s that at ? ” 

“ Here is my check. It’s but a small satchel. I couldn’t 
wait for more — even if I was going to stay all summer.” 

“ All summer, mother dearest ? Oh ! how splendid ! 
Yet — ^that won’t be but a mite of a time, anyway, ’cause 
it’s summer now. June; just think! I’ve been here 
two whole months already.” 

The mother might have added : “ They seem like as 
many years to me ; ” but it wasn’t her way to dwell upon 
unpleasant feelings and she had her arms about her child, 
at last. 


132 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


What a ride that was! How the happy tongues flew, 
how questions and answers were tossed to and fro, how 
plans were laid, events discussed, and the returned east- 
erner felt that she had come into her own again. Cali- 
fornia she loved. In California she would live and die; 
but beside this broad old river she had been born and its 
rugged, verdure-covered Highlands were most beautiful 
in her sight. 

And what a welcome followed, when old Margaret and 
Gabriella met! How keen the glances with which each 
searched the other’s face and read thereon the lessons 
life and the years had taught. Through Mrs. Trent’s 
heart shot a swift pain, beholding in Madam the signs 
of a great grief. Despite the valiant front she would 
still present to her changed fortunes, the loss of her home 
had aged her as the flight of time could not. In repose, 
when no necessity for assumed brightness roused her, 
she looked to the full what she really was — an old, old 
woman; world-weary, life-weary, though a ^‘Waldron” 
still! 

Also, though she did not acknowledge it, she was wo- 
fully disappointed in Gabriella, whom she remembered 
as a gay, bright “ society girl,” but who was so sadly 
changed. 

To Granny Briggs, who had begun to usurp the confi- 
dences once enjoyed by Barnes, she regretted: 

My cousin Gabriella hasn’t an atom of style. She’s 
become a regular dowd, living out there in that wilder- 
ness. She used to be the most admired girl in our set 
and was Madam Mearsom’s star pupil. She graduated 
with highest tfpnors — My! But she was a beauty, that 


MEETING AND PARTING. 


133 


day! in her white gown, of the finest, sheerest French 
organdie, with billows of filmy lace — I took good care 
that my ward’s gown should be the handsomest of all 
her class’s. Poor Gabriella! Such a pity, to throw her- 
self away on a penniless man when she might easily have 
married a millionaire and a gentleman of the first family.” 

“ Yes’m. But seems if she was real peart and purty 
lookin’ yet. I don’t know much about that ‘ style,’ I 
hear tell of, but she’s got a kind of voice that makes you 
feel warm in your insides when she talks with you; and 
that old Ephraim seems to worship the very ground she 
treads on. I don’t know, I ain’t no judge for the aristo- 
cratics, but seems if bein’ loved that way makes up for not 
havin’ that ‘ style.’ What think she’d like best for din- 
ner, to-day ? I’d admire to cook her something as nice as 
that old * Aunt Sally ’ of theirs, or that heathen Wun 
Lung’s. Ephraim Marsh, he’s makin’ great reckonin’ on 
that garden of his’n ; but a garden planted in June ain’t 
goin’ to be no great shakes, ' ’cordin ’ to New Hampshire 
notions. What say, we best have ? Then I’ll go buy the 
stuff of the nighest huckster.” 

‘‘ Anything, anything, dear Mrs. Briggs 1 ” interrupted 
a voice, glad enough to belong to a girl, as Gabriella 
peeped in from the little verandah where she had been 
writing home to little Ned and where she had overheard 
all the above conversation. “Any sort of eastern cook- 
ing is delicious to me. I haven’t been so hungry in a 
long, long time as since I came ‘ home.’ ” 

Not only to little Ned, whose pride at receiving a let- 
ter all his own she could picture, but to that most help- 
ful lawyer friend, Mr. Hale, had she been writing; and 


134 


JESSICA TRENT^S INHERITAl^CE. 


it was due to his kind offices that soon there joined these 
happy cottage folk another who could hardly believe her 
good fortune true. 

“ Ah ! little daughter ! That is the best of having this 
abundance of money — though I can scarcely realize yet, 
that it is really our own and it’s right to use it — that one 
may make others happy with it. So Mr. Hale has ar- 
ranged with the surgeons in charge to have Sophy Nes- 
tor brought up here to stay as long as we do. I’ve hired 
that other little cottage, across the way — that empty one 
— for we shall need extra sleeping rooms. She is to be 
brought, ^ strapped ’ as she must be for long to come, and 
her attendant nurse with her. The surgeon will run up, 
now and then, when it is necessary, and her improvement 
wdll not be hindered because of her coming. Indeed, 
the change of air will help her to grow strong. When I 
think of what we owe that child — I am almost overcome 
with gratitude. 

“ More than that, you and I will sail down to the city, 
to-morrow morning, and you shall select the very pret- 
tiest little set of furniture you see and it shall be for her 
own bedroom. We will give her one happy summer, if 
we can, despite that dreadful ' strapping ’ and lying still 
that is the price of her recovery. Ah ! my darling ! God 
was good to us when He sent old Pedro to show the way 
to that copper mine, with its immeasurable results of 
benefit to the poor and afflicted ! ” 

That was always the way Gabriella talked. It was 
ever the one thought of her heart that this now rapidly 
growing, famous “ Sobrante ” mine was but a trust placed 
in her hands and those of her children for the happiness 


MEETING AND PARTING. 


135 


of other people. It made her very grateful, even more 
humble, to have been accounted worthy to hold this 
trust ” ; and, thus listening to the wise mother whom 
she adored, little Jessica was in small danger ever of 
loving money for money’s sake. 

To them sometimes laughingly spoke the more worldly- 
wise Madam. 

** But shall you never do anything for the Trents them- 
selves, my Gabriella? Shall you be always content to 
live in a frame house in a wilderness? Is Jessica never 
to have the benefit of that ' society ’ for which Madam 
Mearsom and her own wealth, will fit her? Remember 
that a little — just a little — is due those poor Trents and 
Waldrons ! ” 

“ All in good time. Cousin Margaret. The frame 
house has been, is still, the happiest of homes. When 
you come out to California to spend next winter in the 
sunshine, you’ll see for yourself how cosy we are. 
There is a hospital to be built, first; for so many, many 
workmen are coming to our dear Golden Valley, that 
there must sometimes be illness or even injury. We 
must have a place to care for them. We must have a 
fine school. The workmen have wives and children. We 
must have homes, dozens of those pretty ‘ frame cot- 
tages,’ if you please ! for them to live in. We must have 
a church. Maybe I should have put that first. We must 
have stores and libraries — Oh ! there is no end to the 
things we must have if — if that mine holds out to pay 
for them ! ” 

Such enthusiasm was contagious. Said the Madam, 
with mock dismay: 


136 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


“Hold your tongue, Gabriella Trent! Or the first 
thing I know I shall be giving away that parcel of land 
in Washington Square for some ridiculous charity. Just 
say no more and let me keep my common sense, which 
you’ve almost talked out of my head.” 

“ O Cousin Margaret, do give it ! Give it, surely. And 
let me care for you now as you cared for me when I was 
a girl. The only mother I ever knew — what so fitting 
as that you should turn your own proud back on this 
* society ’ of fashion and come home with me to 
that other, better, more worth-while society of labor, 
honesty, and love. You’ll come, dear? Surely, you will 
come.” 

“And leave our Jessica to the snares of this eastern 
‘ society,’ which ‘ toils not, neither does it spin ’ ? We’re 
a long way from that question of dinner we started with, 
and you’re here for the summer, at least. One request 
I have to make. Do me a personal favor. When you go 
to town, to-morrow, to buy that Sophy Nestor a set of 
furniture, please also buy yourself a decent gown. Even 
a ready-made one from a store is preferable to that thing 
you have on. The sleeves — Why, my dear girl, the 
sleeves are at least seven years behind the fashion! and 
there’s nothing so betrays the age of one’s clothes as the 
sleeves they wear. Since you came here before you got 
Jessica’s letter — that’s the worst of your California, it 
takes an age for letters to go to and fro ! — since you came 
before then you must know that I have already ordered 
a few things for her. They should be finished by this 
time and sent up. You can inquire about them. Also, 
you can see Melanie and find out about my own things. 


MEETING AND PARTING. 


13Y 


Really, Gabriella, you are coming in very handy ! Fve 
been wanting a trustworthy woman to send shopping, 
since I’m to live in the country myself.” 

She was in a merry mood, this proud old dame, happy 
through all her love-hungry nature to have her old ward 
with her once more. A merry party all ; though the 
mother sometimes thought longingly of little Ned and 
his '' shadow,” Luis ; wondering what sort of mischief 
occupied their busy brains at that especial moment. But 
mostly she was as gay as her own girl. She had come 
away for a holiday and she was wise enough to take it to 
the utmost ; leaving home cares and fortunes in the capa- 
ble hands of Aunt Sally Benton, Mr. Ninian Sharp, and 
the faithful boys.” That Sobrante would not seem 
really the old Sobrante to them there, with her and 
Jessica and “Forty-niner” absent, she was sure; but 
that her welcome, returning, would be all the more de- 
lightful and heartsome she was also sure. 

“ All summer together.” 

Alas! How swift are summer days! And that one 
came whereon was parting. Another summer would 
come and all these with it, it was hoped ; but it was a 
very sad-faced, if most patient, Sophy Nestor who 
looked about her dainty chamber to bid it a winter’s 
farewell. All that pretty furniture, of white, with rose- 
bud decorations, which had been given to her for her 
“ very, very own ” ; those soft swaying curtains ; that 
adorable rosebush outside her window, whereon had been 
the roses right at hand to gather freely as she would; 
all the love and gayety of that simple cottage life; with 
Granny grown a happy-faced old lady, and with her be- 


138 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

loved Jessica attendant on her as on a precious sister — 
this was ended. 

The surgeon had come; the nurse had on her street 
costume and was waiting; she had herself been capped 
and wrapped against some adverse draught; and would 
presently be lifted in strong arms and carried on a 
comfortable stretcher back to that hospital she now called 
home. 

Then — Why, then, so quick one couldn’t realize it — • 
everything was over. Sophy was back on her own little 
cot in the children’s ward, there to become its very life 
and comfort, so confident and hopeful and uncomplain- 
ing was she. She had bidden Granny good-by. Granny 
who, despising conventions, had been installed in the 
dearest little flat that could be found near the hospital, 
and was there to keep house just as they did in 
“ Cawnco’d ” — ^baked beans and all — with Ephraim 
Marsh as boarder and sole companion. Buster had been 
put out to board in the village where he had disgraced 
himself by his own odd behavior. Tipkins — Well, Tip- 
kins, erect and immaculate as of old, had purchased his 
own new livery and was ready to attend his mistress into 
those western wilds whither that deluded creature now 
was bound. Tipkins had his opinion of anybody, even his 
faultless Madam, who would forsake the “ higher civil- 
ization ” of New York, at this time of year, to live in a 
frame house on a sort of prairie, with nobody but work- 
men and horses, and wild ostriches around. Oh! Tip- 
kins knew ! he hadn’t listened all these weeks to the talk 
that went on among his betters, without understanding 
the entire situation, even though he gave no sign. 


MEETIl^G AND PARTING. 


139 


“ Madam is getting into her second childhood ! ” he 
had said in a burst of confidence to Ephraim. “ She’d 
never have done such a thing as this, if she wasn’t.” 

Shucks ! Lots of folks and towerists come to Cali- 
forny to spend the winter. ’Tain’t no fool of a trip, 
either. It costs money.” 

“ Well, yes, maybe. But they go to the hotels, the big 
ones, and pay high and live like the Waldronses had 
ought to. But I ain’t forgetting what she used to be; 
and I’m wearing my livery constant, to remind her that 
there’s others that remember it too. I’ll show them cow- 
boys and Chinese laundry-cooks, that I knows what’s 
what, even if they don’t ; and I’ll teach them what a first- 
class English butler is like.” 

Then did Forty-niner ” toss back his grizzled head 
and laugh. How he did laugh ! Almost as if he were at 
that moment on the broad plain of Sobrante where none 
would be disturbed because of a little noise. And said he : 

“ Good ! Good enough ! I like you, Tippy, I plumb do 
like you. You’re straight and white, almost as white as 
a Yankee. But I’d give all my old shoes to see the 
‘ boys’ ’ faces when you arrive in their midst. When you 
try to buttle your butlery in their presence — I tell you. 
Tippy, you’ll strike it rich! If ’twasn’t for turnin’ my 
back on the ‘ Little Captain,’ now, when she’s going to 
need me the most. I’d join the homeward-bound myself 
just to be on hand when that bottle-green-and-poppy- 
yeller livery hits the ranch ! Oh ! Shucks ! ” 

Again that uncontrollable laughter seized him, fancy- 
ing the face of Samson the mighty, when Tipkins the 
haughty should appear before him; and bending himself 


140 


JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 


double he retreated lest this untimely mirth should jar 
upon the feelings of others, to whom this day brought 
grief. 

In the handsome drawing-room of Madame Mearsom, 
Mrs. Dalrymple, Gabriella, and poor Jessica gathered for 
a last embrace. Madam herself supported them by the 
kindly dignity of her deportment — exactly what that de- 
portment should have been at such a time and such a mo- 
ment. One glance at her countenance showed her emi- 
nently fitted to assume the charge and education of a 
** young lady of the higher class,'' it was so benign, so 
composed, and so intelligent. 

But Jessica had scarcely looked at her. She had eyes, 
at that moment only for that beloved face of her mother 
which would vanish in a moment and leave her alone. 

Hark ! The door has already closed ! the dear face has 
vanished ! Little Captain " is alone ! On the threshold 
of a new, unknown life. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


JESSICA ENTERS SCHOOL. 

“ Now, my dear, I will introduce you to your mates.*’ 

Jessica caught her breath with a sob, but her blue eyes 
were dry and her face piteously white and grief-stricken. 
This second parting from her beloved mother had been 
harder than the first. It was with a feeling of utter deso- 
lation that she followed Madam Mearsom into the pleas- 
ant recreation-room where most of the pupils of the 
school were gathered. 

These were not many in number ; that number strictly 
limited to those whose guardians were willing to pay 
an extremely high tuition price. But it is just to add that 
the price was well deserved. While known as a fash- 
ionable establishment it was yet a most thorough one, 
affording its graduates as complete an education as they 
could have obtained at a woman’s college. In that re- 
spect, Jessica’s new home had been well chosen. 

Young ladies, I have the pleasure to present to you, 
Miss Jessica Trent, of Sobrante, California. I trust that 
you will make her very happy among you. Miss Rhine- 
lander, Miss Trent’s desk will be next your own in the 
study-room. Kindly do the honors of our house.” 

“ Yes, madam, with great pleasure,” answered a talb 
dark-eyed girl, moving forward with an air as composed 
and self-possessed as that of the schoolmistress herself. 
141 


142 JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 

With a graceful, sweeping courtesy, she offered her hand 
to the newcomer, who accepted it gratefully enough, yet 
with the feeling that nothing mattered now. 

Helen Rhinelander was instantly offended. She was 
the leader in the school, by reason of her ability and social 
position. Also, by a certain sort of arrogance which im- 
pressed her followers as something extremely fine and 
full of distinction." To be distingue " was, at 
Madame Mearsom’s, the height of elegance. 

Now, Miss Rhinelander's glance swept Jessica's sim- 
ple costume, of that unadorned blue flannel her mother 
so greatly liked, and there was disdain in the glance. 
This disdain was observed and copied by a few. 

“ Helen's own clothes are very simple — ^but then ! 
They are of the finest, and cut with such a grace. She 
is style itself. Why, she’s stylish even in her night- 
gown ! " had remarked one young miss to another, and 
had tried to make her own dressmaker copy this “ style " 
— with poor result. 

Dowd ! " ‘‘ Common ! " “ pretty enough, but — Oh I 
my ! " She’s simply impossible ! I doubt if even 
Madam can make that new girl over into anybody pre- 
sentable." “ I think it’s a shame to admit such people to 
our school. My father sends me here because he be- 
lieved it to be so very exclusive. She isn’t exclusive. 
She might be anybody. She might even live — any- 
where." Looks as if she came from California, or some 
other outlandish place." '' She’s a dear. How sad she 
looks and how brave, not to cry when she's so longing 
to." “ I've heard about her. She was the girl that was 
found in the garden of Madam Dalrymple’s mansion in 


JESSICA ENTERS SCHOOL. 


143 


Washington Square ; when it was burned another girl, a 
flower-girl, saved her life.’’ These were the unspoken 
opinions that greeted Jessica. 

'' Helen — Helen isn’t — nice I ” whispered Aubrey Hunt- 
ington to her chum and satellite. Now when a school- 
girl is dubbed “ not nice ” by her mates, the chances are 
that she is extremely disagreeable. Also, a person may 
be that, yet remain perfectly well bred. 

Helen prided herself on her breeding, yet she did not 
hesitate to elevate her eyebrows slightly, as she con- 
ducted Jessica to a low chair in the pleasantest corner of 
the room, where one could look out on the broad Avenue, 
with its passing throngs and vehicles, and through which 
a soft September breeze was blowing. 

Jessica accepted the chair with a low Thank you,” 
and turned her face toward the window. The breeze 
cooled her cheek, that burned beneath the glances of all 
these strangers, yet the throngs outside but served to in- 
crease her own loneliness. In fancy she could hear the 
“ chug-chug ” of the train bearing her dear ones far 
away; and before she knew it the tears were streaming 
down her face and she could see nothing even of the 
throngs. She did not attempt to stay them, she could not. 
Neither did she lift her handkerchief to wipe them off. 
She was ashamed of her own weakness, it was so un- 
Waldron-y, and she hoped none of those bright creatures 
yonder had seen it. 

“ If she had only let me go to my room alone ! Just 
for a little time till I got used to it ! ” she thought. Then 
felt something soft and dainty touch her cheek, got a 
whiff of delicate perfume, and heard a voice whispering: 


144 


JESSICA tkent’s inheritance. 


Don't look 'round. Stare right out the window, hard 
as ever. In a minute Helen and her clique 'll be going 
out — It's exercise hour ; and, lucky for us, I’ve a cold in 
my head and am excused. I always do get a cold in my 
head, whenever I have a chance. It lets you off so many 
things. There 1 They're going. Madam won't insist 
upon you, not this first day. You're a ^ new-er.' ‘ New- 
ers ' get scot of heaps of things. Now, they've gone ; 
every one except Natalie, and she doesn't count. She 
generally is in disgrace, Nat is. Come here, Natalie 
Graham. This is Jessica Trent. She's cried my hanky 
full, give me yours. Hold on. You better keep it and 
sop her cheeks yourself while I go bring that box of 
choccies I hid in my bed. I had to take them out the box 
'cause that would have showed, but I left ’em in the paper. 
Whew! Jessica Trent! I never saw a girl cry so much 
nor such awful great tears in all my life. Nattie's 
hanky '11 be soaked, too, in a minute, if you don’t let up. 
See if you can’t stop before I get back. I cried, too, the 
day I was a ' new-er ' but not that way. Stick to her, Nat, 
and make her know it’s not so bad when you get used to 
it. You can get used to anything, you know, even the 
‘ corrective medicine ' Madame has given to us, now 
and then, for our complexions.” 

By this time the sopping ” process had been thor- 
oughly accomplished, Jessica had ceased to weep from 
sheer astonishment, and the lively, whispering comforter 
h^d betaken herself in search of prohibited “ Choccies,” 
otherwise a rich chocolate dainty. The proprietor of 
these had never known a grief that a pound of Huy- 
ler's ” could not cure. 


JESSICA ENTERS SCHOOL. 


145 


Jessica looked after the plump, retreating figure, with 
its starched and sadly berumpled white frock, its ex- 
travagantly large bows that stood out from a brilliant 
red head at absurd angles, and its odd air of being made 
up of bits, rudely flung together in great haste. The 
eflfect was amusing enough to bring a smile even to her 
lips, sad though she was, and she demanded of the 
sopper who remained : 

“ Who is that? Is she a pupil here? 

That’s Aubrey Huntington. Yes, she’s a pupil, 
that is, she’s here; but she doesn’t pupil very much. 
She’s in so many scrapes she doesn’t have time. Any- 
way, she doesn’t need. She’s so awful rich. Her father 
is, I mean, and he gives Aubrey heaps and heaps of 
spending money, even though Madame doesn’t approve. 
Why, he’s richer even than Helen Rhinelander’s mother* 
and that family think they own the earth. Helen’s father 
is dead, and she’s an heiress. She’s awful smart. Stands 
head in all her classes and plays the piano to beat the band. 
Oh! I ought not to have said that. It’s slang, and 
Madame is very particular about our using slang. There 
isn’t much of anything that Madame isn’t particular 
about. But I love her. I certainly do. She’s just like a 
mother to us if we’re in trouble, or ill, or anything; ex- 
cept, well, except when we get into scrapes and then she’s 
more like a — a father. My name is Natalie Graham. 
Oh I I forgot, Aubrey told you. She and I are sort of 
cousins and Madame used to let us room together. This 
year she won’t. She says Aubrey does me a great deal 
of harm and I’m not the restriction on Aubrey that I 
should be, being six months older, so. Some of the girls 
10 


146 


JESSICA teent’s inheeitakce. 


room alone. I guess you will, ’cause all the double 
rooms are full. I guess you’ll be in our form, too. 
Aubrey can draw lovely. I mean she can draw funny; 
but her folks have forbidden her drawing any more be- 
cause they want her to study the piano. Her father says 
he must have somebody in the family that can make a 
little music and soothe an idle hour and Aubrey’s the 
only child there is, so she’s shut off on drawing and 
pinned down to practising. She won’t be long, though. 
She can coax her father to let her do ’most anything. 
She says it’s a great deal easier to buy a pianola and let 
the music play itself on that, and she’s in for a pianola. 
She says she’s going to be a comic illustrator and make 
pictures for the funny papers. She could do it, too. 

“ Seems as if she were gone a long time. I — I bet 
something’s happened ! Ah ! Here she comes now. 
Have you got done crying? Choccies won’t taste half as 
nice, if you haven’t, with tears on them. Heigho! Aub! 
What kept you ? ” 

“ The ' Snooper.’ She’s in with a headache, or a fit 
of the ‘ snoops ’ more like. She’s got it into her long 
head that I’ve been doing something forbidden again, 
and just casually strayed into my room to find out. First 
thing she did she sat right down on my bed, kerflump! 
And there, in that very spot, between the sheets were 
these precious sweeties. Look at them, will you? Isn’t 
that enough to try the soul of a saint? Which I’m not. 
Poor choccies ! To be smashed by the ‘ Snooper.’ 

'' So I sat down in the chair and she sat on the bed ; 
and I said just as politely deportment-y as I could: 
‘ Beg pardon. Miss Stewart, but I’m excused from exer- 


JESSICA ENTERS SCHOOL. 


147 


cise, to-day, on account of my bad cold, and IVe retired 
to my room for a little privacy and — and meditation.’ 
That’s where I made a mistake. Saying ‘ meditation.’ 
‘ Snooper’s ’ a faddist on meditation. Says it so im- 
proves our souls and a lot more bosh. So she decided 
she’d stay and meditate with me. And she did. But 

I ousted her at last. I sang! As soon as I began she 

put up her hand to make me stop, but the higher she 
held it the more I warbled, and in time she fled. But 
not till after she’d squashed these dear choccies all flat. 
Never mind. They were in the waxed paper and we can 
lick ’em off. Try some, Jessica. There’s nothing so 
good for a broken heart as a fresh cream drop.” 

Nobody could withstand this nonsensical, merry girl. 
Certainly not Jessica Trent, even though she did wince at 
that reference to “ broken hearts ; ” and in another mo- 
ment the trio were deep in the enjoyment of the sweets 
which two of them knew were prohibited ‘‘ between 

meals ” though the ‘‘ new-er ” did not. Also, each was 

frankly imparting all the facts of her personal history, 
and the stranger was swiftly learning that there was still 
a good deal of happiness left in life. Here were girls,” 
that race of which she knew so little ; here was no grave 
talk of “ duty ” and trusts ” and the serious matters 
which interested grown folks ; and here, once more, Jes- 
sica began to feel as she had used in the old home at 
Sobrante before any troubles came to it, to make her 
thoughtful beyond her years. 

Suddenly said Aubrey: 

Pooh ! My cold in the head isn’t bad. It’s stuffy 
in here. It’s recreation afternoon, anyway, and no les- 


148 JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 

sons till study hour at night. Let's get our things and 
take a walk." 

** Why, Aubrey ! How can we without a teacher ? " 

** A great deal better than with one. It's teacher's 
day off, too, our class walking one. Oh! come on, Na- 
talie. Don't be tiresome." 

I don’t want to be tiresome. I want to go. I'll 
run ask Madame. Probably she’ll tell Miss Leonard to 
look after us, or she might even send the groom." 

“You’ll do nothing of the kind, Natalie Graham. 
Madame has a managers' meeting in the big drawing- 
room. I heard them managing as I went through the 
upper hall. Miss Leonard is too strict. I'd rather stay 
at home than go out with that linen-room woman. Come 
on. I’m off." 

Alas ! Where Aubrey led the way, the weaker Natalie 
was apt to follow. Therefore, the first act of Jessica's 
life at school was one of disobedience. The strictest 
rule of Madame Mearsom's establishment was against 
her pupils' going upon the streets alone, without the pro- 
tection of someone in authority. 

But Aubrey was a born New Yorker. She knew, or 
fancied that she knew, all its streets and avenues, hav- 
ing seen many of them from the safety of her father's 
carriage — rarely from the point of a pedestrian — save 
on those prim walks of the scholars, such as most of 
them were now taking. 

Once upon the street, she advised: 

“Don’t let’s go the regular route. There's no fun 
meeting the others. If we do we’ll have to fall into line 
and go, ‘ miminy-piminy ' just as usual. New York is 


JESSICA ENTEKS SCHOOL. 


149 


all in squares. Let’s go by this east square and then 
around the block home again. We can do that as many 
times as we like and stay out till we’re tired.” 

“ All right. Let’s,” agreed Natalie, seeing nothing 
dangerous in such a plan. Nor did Jessica object. She 
followed in all innocence and ignorance whatever the 
aifectionate Aubrey suggested. But after one round of 
the block, that lively girl tired of it. 

Pshaw ! ” There’s nothing to see here. I want to 
see something. Something except brown-stone houses 
and a few carriages before them. Hark ! I hear music ! 
Guess it is a hand-organ! Oh! I love hand-organs! 
Especially if they have monkeys to them. Hurry up! 
Come on ! Isn’t this a lark ? ” 

Natalie made a vain clutch at the starched and fleeing 
skirt, which eluded her grasp as its wearer dashed on- 
ward around the next corner and eastward along a cross 
street. 

It is a hand organ ! And there is a monkey — The 
dearest, delightfullest one ever! Hurry up, girls, do 
hurry up. See? There are children dancing on the 
pavement. Oh! how pretty and how jolly! ” 

It was both pretty and extremely jolly.” Older eyes 
than these have watched the unconscious, small street- 
dancers, lured from their poor homes by the melody 
of “ Money Musk ” or its like, though wheezed from a 
weather-beaten hurdy-gurdy; and none of these three 
now remembered aught they should. 

For them there was also lure in the music and in 
the antics of the red-clad monkey. 

“ Oh ! how perfectly, delightfully * plebeian ! ’ ” cried 


150 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

Aubrey, her own nimble feet keeping time to those en- 
trancing strains and catching Jessica about the waist to 
make her join in that mad whirl. I can just fancy 
Helen Rhinelander’s face when I tell her, to-night, where 
we have been and what we’ve done. Ever been to danc- 
ing school, Jessica?” 

No, indeed, never.” 

“ I thought so. Never mind, you’ll learn soon. We 
have the finest teacher in the city. Come on, Nat! 
Let’s take a turn ! ” 

Not one but many ; and soon the surroundings changed 
and even reckless Aubrey paused and exclaimed: 

Heigho ! I guess we’d better be going back. The 
man is putting up his monkey, he isn’t going to play any 
more, it must be nearly supper time. We must go back.” 

** Yes we must,” agreed Natalie, earnestly. “ You 
walk between us, Jessie Trent. I’m so glad you’ve 
come to our school We’ll have the very nicest times 
together, we three. Won’t we, Aubrey?” 

“ Indeed, we will,” answered she. 

But her companions noticed that her voice had lost 
its usual enthusiasm, and that she now paused to look 
about her with a puzzled air. As a leader she suddenly 
felt responsible for her comrades in mischief and re- 
marked, rather soberly: 

** This isn’t the way. We’re going wrong. The num- 
bers on the houses — I didn’t know there were such 
poor houses anywhere, so dingy and so small ; but the 
numbers run up high, as you go north. I know that. 
In time we’ll get to Madame Mearsom’s if we watch the 
numbers.” 


JESSICA ENTERS SCHOOL. 


151 


Unfortunately to have watched the numbers of the 
streets would have been the safer way, than those upon 
the houses. These continually grew larger and larger 
and as constantly more uninviting. Finally, poor Aubrey 
stopped short. Her ruddy face had grown quite pale, 
and her breath came fast, as she announced : 

Girls, we are — lost ! But we mustn’t get scared nor 
say a word to anybody, nor ask a single question. We 
must just find our own way home. Else we’ll be taken 
to a station-house, or worse — be kidnapped ! That’s 
what my father is always afraid of, that somebody will 
kidnap me, big as I am, so as to make him pay a lot of 
money to get me back again.” 

“What’s ‘kidnapped?’” asked Jessica in awed and 
wondering ignorance. Nor did her heart grow lighter 
when these two, long ago enlightened on that dread sub- 
ject by the words of maids and nurses, explained to her 
its awful meaning. 

“ Then we mustn’t ask, as you say. Else I would have 
called that policeman yonder, just as Mr. Hale and my 
Cousin Margaret always bade me do if I was in trouble. 
We’ll just walk right straight along, with our heads high 
up as if we weren’t afraid and didn’t care at all, and 
after a while we’ll get somewhere ! ” 

“O Jessica, you darling! You’re just the nicest ever. 
You give me lots of courage. Yes, we’ll do that. Stop 
crying, Natalie. Come on.” 

So they set valiantly forth, though the early nightfall 
was now swiftly coming ; but the “ somewhere ” they 
sought was far and hard to find. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


HOW THE FIRST DAY ENDED. 

The three girls walked on till, as Natalie said, their 
legs “ felt like sticks, hopping up and down ” and Aubrey 
was in a frenzy of fear. This was so unlike her that it 
had a most terrifying effect on Natalie and even Jes- 
sica was dismayed. Then, too, she suddenly remembered 
that she had once before been lost on a Los Angeles’ 
street and that a “ station house,” such as these girls 
dreaded, had been her refuge. They had come to an open 
lot, whereon a row of buildings was to be erected, the 
cellars already dug; and upon some of the stones heaped 
there they sat down to consult. 

** I’d be afraid to go back now. I — I’m awful afraid, 
anyway. I guess, I guess our ‘ lark ’ wasn’t so nice 
as it seemed. I was never out in the dark like this, with- 
out grown-ups with me. Madame — I daren’t think of 
Madame! Nor of my father. The last time I got 
into disgrace he said that the next time he would punish 
me by making me stay at school during all the Christ- 
mas holidays. And now — the * next time ’ has come. 
Madame will never overlook this runaway.” 

Aubrey, hush ! Don’t ! ” cried frightened Natalie, 
more disturbed by these words of her leader than even 
by her present condition. Till then, though anxious, she 
152 


HOW THE FIRST DAY EKDED. 


153 


had not had the least doubt but that they were still on that 
road to “ somewhere ” which Jessica had suggested, or 
that ‘‘ somewhere ” would not be in the immediate 
vicinity of their school. 

“Do you mean that weVe done wrong, real wrong, 
coming away without being told we might ? ” demanded 
Jessica, with sudden anger. 

“ Course. You didn't think we were doing the other 
thing — ' right ' — did you ? Madame will punish us aw- 
fully if — if we ever get back. She’ll stop our pocket 
money and give us extra lessons and — Oh ! dear ! I wish 
I’d never — never come ! ” answered Aubrey, collapsing 
to that degree she sobbed aloud. 

Natalie also began to wail, in an audible and most dis- 
tressing manner. She was a girl greatly afraid of “ the 
dark” and the dark was swiftly coming. October days 
are short, even when brightest, and the sky was now 
overclouded with signs of an approaching storm. An 
icy breeze swept round the open place and set them 
shivering, and the keen hunger of healthy schoolgirls 
added to their discomfort. 

A policeman came along and Jessica made prompt de- 
cision ; calling eagerly : 

“O sir! Will you tell us how to get home? We’re 
lost!” 

He stopped and came toward them, even though Au- 
brey and Natalie clutched at her frock, whispering: 
“ Don’t ! That station-house ! ” 

“ Where is your home ? ” 

Without thinking Jessica replied: ‘‘ Sobrante, Cali- 
fornia.” 


154 JESSICA tkent’s inheritance. 

''Whew! Quite a distance, that! However, where 
are you staying here, in New York ? 

Aubrey had regained her courage and drawn near and 
promptly gave Madame Mearsom’s address. 

" Hmm. That’s a long way, too, though not so bad as 
California. There’s no street car-line will take you, 
convenient, but — have you any money ? ” 

" Not a cent.” 

This was odd. Girls wealthy enough to belong at a 
fashionable boarding-school, on the street alone at this 
time of night without any money — ^things began to look 
dubious. Besides, and here the astute officer scanned 
their attire, they were none of them richly dressed. They 
were very likely runaways from some reformatory, or 
public institution, and the best place for them, anyway, 
till their story could be sifted, was the nearest station- 
house. This was not far distant, and thither they were 
now escorted, despite their voluble protests. 

At least Aubrey and Natalie were voluble, and Jessica 
listened, growing wise. To be shut up in a station-house 
meant the worst possible disgrace. It meant, probably, 
a prison, and though they had sometimes felt that the 
Adelphi, as the Mearsom establishment was called, was 
" as bad as a prison ” they changed their minds when 
confronted with the real thing. 

At last " Little Captain ” got her own chance to speak 
and said : 

" I’ve thought a way out. If this kind policeman — ” 
the other girls shuddered — " if this kind policeman will 
either get a carriage, to take us to ' Forty-niner’s,’ or 
will send for him to come to this station-house, it will 


HOW THE FIRST DAY ENDED. 


155 


be all right. My Ephraim will pay for us if there is any- 
thing to pay and will take us either to his flat or to 
Madame’s.’^ 

The officer was not only willing to do this but it was 
his duty; but it was a very grave little group which 
waited in that big, bare room of the building while 
Ephraim was being summoned. Fortunately, the apart- 
ment he occupied was supplied with telephone fixtures, 
and he had been as charmed as a boy with the idea of 
talking over a wire with his Little Captain,’" whenever 
he felt inclined. So he promptly had the proper “ con- 
nections ” made and was now reached without diffi- 
culty or delay. Indeed, that “ Hello 1 ” was never more 
promptly answered than when it brought the informa- 
tion : 

There’s a girl in this station says you know her, 
Jessica Trent. She wants you to come and take her — 
wherever she belongs. There’s three of them.” 

Ephraim sprang away from the instrument with a 
shriek. 

Do you hear that, Sophia Badger — Briggs ? My little 
lass, she’s made herself into three Jessica Trents — and 
gone and got herself into the lock-up ! Wasn’t it well 
I stayed behind with you? Didn’t travel back to So- 
brante with the crowd? I knew it. I felt it in my 
bones my girl ’d want me. She can’t do without her 
old Ephy, yet ! Thank the Lord I’m here ! Where’s 
my hat? I say, Sophia Badger, where’s my hat?” 

In a state of wild excitement, the sharpshooter tore 
round and round the tiny rooms, into one and out of 
another, searching everywhere for an article he felt was 


156 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

necessary if he would make a respectable appearance at 
that dreadful police-station; but which he wouldn’t have 
delayed for, had not so much been at stake. 

Poor Granny was equally flustered. She had learned 
to love Jessica almost as much as she did Sophy, and the 
very name of station ” held terror for her. So many, 
so very many of her old neighbors in Avenue A 
had journeyed to such a place and had not returned, 
having been forwarded to '' the Island ” for a longer 
stay. 

It was impossible to connect innocent Jessie with any 
crime, yet what but crime could send a girl old enough 
to tell where she lived to such a place? So perturbed 
was she that she unconsciously thrust her spectacles up 
over her cap, the better to see, and thus discovered the 
missing object. 

“ Well, Ephraim Marsh ! If we ain’t two old fools 
together! Your hat’s on your head and has been all the 
time. More shame to you, wearing it indoors so much, 
as you do.” 

But he did not tarry to hear her reproof. With a 
disgusted “ Shucks ” he was off and away ; hailing the 
first cab he saw and with a recklessness new to one of 
his thrift, offering the driver double pay if he would 
make double-quick time. Therefore, it was sooner than 
they had hoped when he joined the waiting girls; 
two of whom were rather surprised to see the third 
throw herself into the veteran’s arms with a cry of 
delight : 

** O Ephy ! you darling 1 I knew you’d come. I knew 
you wouldn’t fail! But, Ephraim, what shall I do? 


HOW THE FIRST DAY ENDED. 


157 


This very day, this very first day without her, Tve done 
that will almost break my mother’s heart. I have — Oh! 
I am so unhappy ! ” 

Now did the sharpshooter’s face take on a sternness all 
unknown to '' Little Captain ” as, putting her away from 
he demanded: 

“ Out with it ! Tell the whole story from A to Izzard. 
What you done? It can’t be — the sky hasn’t fell yet! 
— it can’t be that you’ve took what didn't — What you 
done, quick ? ” 

She understood the horrible suspicion that his scant 
knowledge of station-houses had aroused and was in- 
dignant in her turn, but promptly related the not very 
“ criminal ” events of the past few hours ; ending with 
the request: 

“ Will you take us back to Madame Mearsom’s in that 
carriage you came in? She has money of mine and — 
Oh I do, quick, quick 1 ” 

A gentleman approached, with notebook and pencil 
in hand. He was courteous and interested, and eager 
to serve the paper which employed him, but Jessica had 
been instructed by Ninian Sharp concerning reporters 
and their ways and her heart took instant fright. With 
an appealing gesture she cried: 

“O sir! Please don’t write this down. Don’t let it 
get printed. If it did and my mother saw it, as she 
would, ’cause now she reads all the New York news 
quick, it would break her heart. If it didn’t that it would 
make her dreadfully ashamed because — ^because we are 
the Waldrons and mustn’t do disgraceful things. Please, 
don’t write about it, please.” 


158 


JESSICA TKEKT’S INHEEITANCE. 


The man was young and anxious for copy ” and its 
wage, but he couldn't withstand that petition. 

** All right, then. Miss. I won't. But it seems a pity 
« — might make a good story — However, let it go." 

So it was due to the lessons of far-away Ninian that this 
escapade was kept out of the city papers and Madame 
Mearsom spared the chagrin of seeing it in print. How 
it affected her when, a half-hour later the runaways 
were once more safely in her presence, they were yet 
to learn. At present, all she did was to thank Ephraim 
for his escort of the girls and to offer repayment of the 
carriage hire. 

** No, ma'am, I thank you. There's nobody beholden. 
I've got a good job now, a-teachin’ customers to shoot 
in a shooting-gallery up-town. My hours are from seven 
till 'leven and I must be goin’. About what time of day 
is it most convenient for you to have me visit ‘ Little 
Captain.' " 

Madame's countenance underwent a curious change. 
One could not say just what this was, yet old Forty- 
niner " felt that he had not pleased. Her answer was dis- 
appointing : 

** Our pupils are at liberty to receive their friends 
once a week, on Thursday afternoons, from four 
till six. Good evening. Young ladies, attend me, 
please." 

Mr. Marsh went away a perplexed man. He had re- 
mained behind in New York simply to be near his be- 
loved girl. If he was to be allowed to visit her but once 
a week and then in presence of other people, including 
that stately Madame — as her words seemed to imply — 


HOW THE FIRST DAY ENDED. 


159 


there wasn't going to be much comfort for either him 
or Jessica. 

“ But ril stay, all the same. The idee ! Only part of 
a day under that woman’s care an’ the care so slack ’t 
my little miss landed in a station house! More’n that, 
though she seemed dreadful relieved to get her scholars 
safe back again, I low that schoolma’am isn’t apt to 
give ’em no great shakes of a supper. Wish Jessie was 
going home with me now to Sophia Badger’s fried oy- 
sters. Early in the season for ’em, the market man said, 
but I’ll relish ’em. That’s one good thing about the 
east and as poor in Californy — oysters is plenty here 
and scurce there. Heigho! What next ’ll happen, I 
wonder.” 

Left at the Adelphi Jessica felt once more forsaken. 
As soon as they had reached her own private sitting- 
room, Madame Mearsom made each pupil tell her story, 
that by this triple repetition she might arrive at the exact 
truth. When they had finished, she said: 

** Aubrey, you are the one most at fault. You will 
retire to your room where supper will be sent you. You 
will be put in ‘ solitude ’ for a week and you will not go 
out of doors, except to take your exercise in the garden, 
during the same length of time. 

“ Natalie, you may go below and ask a maid to serve 
you, though it is long past the regular supper hour. You 
will then retire to your room, study the lessons for to- 
morrow, and remain there for the rest of the evening. 
During the week of Aubrey’s confinement you are to have 
as little to do with her as is consistent with good breed- 
ing and the duties of your form. 


160 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


“Jessica, you will remain with me. I have not yet 
had my own supper and you may share it. I will also 
improve the opportunity for examining you as to your 
scholarship. 

“Aubrey and Natalie, I wish you good night.” 

Each culprit turned and made a reverent obeisance, 
then slowly retired; but not before Aubrey had had 
time to make a grimace in Jessica’s direction and, by a 
vivid pantomime, to declare: 

“ I’d a deal rather be in my own shoes than yours ! ” 

But at that moment the Californian was pitying the 
other because of the “ solitude ” imposed ; which, how- 
ever, later experience proved was nothing more serious 
than being debarred from the general amusements and 
occupations of her mates. “ In the school but not of the 
school ” was their own definition of this punishment, and 
to lively Aubrey the most severe. 

It was a very dainty supper served to Madame and her 
pupil; and so gentle, sympathetic, and full of under- 
standing did that lady now seem, that Jessica was 
speedily talking with a freedom she had not dreamed pos- 
sible. 

Gradually, by skillful questions and frank answers, the 
schoolmistress learned all of the “ Little Captain’s ” life ; 
and realized how difficult the girl would find the neces- 
sary discipline of her future. Not until the dessert was 
finished and the white-capped maid had carried away the 
trays, did the subject of the afternoon’s “runaway” 
come up. Even then it was lightly dismissed with the re- 
mark : 

“ Of course, now that you know better and under- 


HOW THE FIRST DAY ENDED. 


161 


stand that nothing must be done without the approval of 
some authorized person, you will not transgress again. 
Aubrey is a dear child ; as warm-hearted and lovable as 
one could desire; and in time — in good time — she will 
develop into a charming woman. Only be on the watch 
while with her lest her ‘ fun ^ should lead you into mis- 
takes. For Natalie, I may say the same, except that 
Natalie is a follower as naturally as Aubrey is a leader. 
One afternoon has made you close friends with two of 
your mates — a mutual ' scrape ’ seems to be a certain 
bond between girls — and before long you will know them 
all. The same sorts of persons you will meet, by and by, 
in the world at large. As you influence them now, or 
are influenced by them, will you do then. 

“ Now, that is a good deal of a sermon for me. I don’t 
often lecture my girls ; for I want them, and I especially 
want you — Gabriella’s daughter — to look upon me as 
their best friend, their second mother, and to confide in 
me as they would in her. Now, kiss me, Jessica, and let 
us call the slate washed clean of this unfortunate hap- 
pening. I thank you for preventing that reporter re- 
cording the episode in the public press, as I judge you 
did. It was very wise in you. I hope you’ll prove as 
wise in other matters. 

For instance, here is a real slate. I’ll write on it 
a real example and let me see what you know of prac- 
tical arithmetic.” 

Jessica’s heart sank. Already she had fallen in love, 
after impulsive schoolgirl fashion, with this stately 
woman who could yet be so gentle and so kind, and 
she foresaw defeat. 

11 


162 JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 

“ Yes, Madame Mearsom, I'll try. But — I know you'll 
be dreadfully disappointed. I — I don’t know anything, 
seems if, after hearing those other girls talk." 

** Don’t say that. There may be a difference in the 
amount of knowledge and in the kinds. You have brains 
enough. Don’t disparage them. Remember what Goethe 
said : * What you can do, or think you can, begin it. 
Boldness hath genius, power, and magic in it.' That’s 
only a simple example in arithmetic. Be bold and say 
to yourself ‘ I’ll do it ! ’ " 

Madame leaned back a little in her high-backed chair 
and took up the evening paper, while Jessica fixed her 
eyes upon the written problem. Alas ! the figures danced 
before her as if they were bewitched. Do her utmost 
she could not possibly tell what would be the difference 
in the amount of labor performed by two men, one work- 
ing eight hours per day for eight days, and the other ten 
hours on six days. 

After fifteen minutes of hopeless computation on her 
part and patient waiting on her examiner’s the student 
cried : 

“ I don’t know. It seems as simple as A, B, C ; but 
I haven’t the least idea of that * difference,’ I don’t see an 
atom of sense in the whole question. I — I hate arith- 
metic, anyway." 

“ Oh ! no you don’t. Hate is too strong a word for a 
young gentlewoman to use, except on the extremest prov- 
ocation. You simply do not know. That’s nothing. 
You will know some day, soon. That’s why you’re here. 
Let us try geography. Where is Prince Edward’s 
Island?" 


HOW THE FIRST DAY ENDED. 


163 


“ I haven’t the slightest idea 1 ” cried poor Jessie, with 
scarlet face. 

“ How many kings of England have been named 
Henry?” 

“ I didn’t know that any had been.” 

Madame smiled. Here surely was ** virgin soil ” 
wherein to plant the seeds of learning. 

‘‘ Do you know anything about the government of our 
country ? In what it consists ? ” 

“ Course. There’s a President and — and — and other 
folks.” 

“ Perfectly correct. We will pass over the ‘ other 
folks ’ till a future day. Please spell ' separate.’ ” 

Mr. Ninian had drilled Jessica during the winter past 
on the fine art of orthography and here, at last, she 
felt herself secure. 

** Oh ! I can, easily : * Sepperate.’ ” 

Madame Mearsom folded her paper and touched a 
bell. A maid appeared, and received the order : 

‘‘ Assemble the young ladies for evening prayers. 
Then return and show Miss Trent to her room and see 
that she has everything comfortable. She is excused 
from further exercises on this first day.” 

Then to this abashed new-er ” she said : 

** There is no ‘ form ’ at present existing in the school 
which you are fitted to enter. I will arrange a special 
course for you and special instructors. Good night. I 
hope you will sleep well.” 

Sleep well ! ” thought poor Jessica, tossing on her 
white bed in the charming room assigned to her. ** Why 
— I was never so ashamed in all my life! I — I know 


164 


JESSICA TEEHT'S INHEEITANCE. 


she knows I don’t know anything ! and the * boys * said 
I was so terr’ble smart! Sleep? I’m too mortified to 
sleep; ’cause though she didn’t tell me I know she 
knows ” 

But promptly, amid this maze of knows ” and 
don’t knows ” and with the hot flush of mortification 
on her cheek, our heroine had passed into the land of 
dreams. 


CHAPTER XV. 


A TEXT FROM GOETHE. 

Jessica had gone to bed a homesick, ashamed, dis- 
couraged girl. She awoke, full of determination to con- 
quer all the difficulties of this '' education ” which had, 
last night, seemed so formidable. 

As she stood before her little mirror, brushing the 
yellow curls into that semblance of order which was their 
morning state, and that so soon gave place to a tangle 
of glistening threads and escaping tendrils, she regarded 
herself with severity. 

“Jessica Trent, you may be going to be *one of the 
richest ’ sometime, but at present you are a simpleton. 
YouVe got everything before you — not a thing behind, 
except — Well, except knowing how to ride a horse or 
an ostrich, or hit a bull’s eye, or a few other things that 
Madame Mearsom would surely say were ‘ unbefitting 
a gentlewoman.’ I used to love that word, hearing my 
mother use it. I begin — I begin to hate it! Humph! 
There goes, already ! A gentlewoman doesn’t say ‘ hate.’ 
But listen, you girl in the glass. I’m going to study so 
hard I’ll catch up with that lowest ‘ form ’ I’m not 
clever enough to enter yet ; and I’ll pass it by. Then I’ll 
tackle the next one, and leave that behind. I’ll — get to 
be the highest-up, intelligentest — that doesn’t sound right 
165 


166 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

but you know what I mean, Jessica Trent. I’ll be the 
head of the school, as Aubrey said that handsome Helen 
Rhinelander is. I’ll take care to keep every rule and I’ll 
find out what they are. And I’ll do it all for love’s 
sake — for my mother! I made a bad beginning, but 
‘ Little Captain,’ hear me say I’m bound to make a good 
ending. I WILL! Right here and now I’ll write that 
poetry out, which Madame quoted from that Goethe. I 
know who he was, my father had his books in his little 
library. Maybe, who knows! it might have been that 
very verse which encouraged dear father to go ahead 
and start Sobrante and try to help so many people. He 
believed he could 'do’ it and he did. I remember it 
exactly.” 

Taking a sheet of the school paper which was sup- 
plied to each girl’s room, Jessica wrote in her very best 
hand, and in that large size which would make the script 
readable from every part of the room. 

" What you can do, or think you can, begin it. 

Boldness hath genius, power, and magic in it.” 

This she pinned to the mirror-frame, and, after her 
brief devotions, she answered to the " assembly bell ” 
that summoned her to the hall below; and entered as 
boldly ” as if her heart were not beating very fast and 
her cheek glowing very red, meeting the curious gaze of 
her schoolmates. 

Of course, the news of her escapade and Madame’s 
anxiety concerning the three absentees from last night’s 
table had spread through all the forms. 

Helen Rhinelander had emphasized the fact that “ one 
must expect such things from a wild Westerner and that 


A TEXT FROM GOETHE. 


167 


for her part, she felt Madame had made a great mistake 
in admitting such a creature to the Adelphi. Pretty? 
Well, yes, in a certain way; but no style. Not an atom 
of style; and style was the one thing neither money nor 
education could procure. It had to be born in a person,” 
said Helen, with decision, and all her coterie chirped: 
“ Yes.” 

However, Helen was but one, although her influence 
held many. Also, there may be counter-influences even 
more powerful than wealth and style. Along with the 
discussion of last night's affair was circulated by some 
braver spirits, the fact that it was the young “ West- 
erner's '' cool sense which had extricated the trio from a 
most unpleasant position, and that Madame was smiling 
affectionately upon her, as she now crossed the hall to 
the seat assigned her. 

The smile which Jessica flashed back into that 
motherly face expressed something of the thought she 
had had while brushing her hair. At least, Madame, 
long versed in the study of young girls' faces so inter- 
preted it ; and now she not only smiled again but nodded 
her white head in approval. 

Prayers over, the family marched quietly out to break- 
fast, that was as liberal in quantity and as faultlessly 
served as it would have been in some big hostelry. A 
small matter in itself, some might have said, but a de- 
tail of infinite gain in the matter of the Adelphi's success. 
Also, an excellent equipment for the day's study that 
was to follow. “ Healthy bodies make healthy minds '' 
was one of the schoolmistress's maxims ; a maxim nearly 
always correct. 


168 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

After breakfast there came a half-hour of recreation, 
passed usually in the garden or conservatory behind the 
house. Then a silver bell struck the school hour and 
each girl filed to her place at her own individual desk in 
her own form class-room. 

This was Jessica’s first glimpse of a time-regulated 
household, and she was so absorbed in watching the 
others that she scarcely realized she had been left be- 
hind, alone, till a pleasant-faced teacher addressed her : 

** Miss Jessica, you are to be my * special ’ for the 
present. I am Miss Montaigne. This way, please. We 
are to have a cosy little spot quite to ourselves, for a 
time.” 

“ Good morning. I will try not to give you much 
trouble. Miss Montaigne, but I am very stupid. I don’t 
know anything, really.” 

** All the more enjoyable then, to learn. I am so fond 
of study myself that I fancy everybody else must be. 
Sit here, please.” 

The place was but an alcove, opening into the lower 
form class-room, but isolated from it sufficiently that what 
went on within between teacher and pupil could not be 
overheard. A very haven of comfort for Jessica, had 
she been really as stupid as she felt; and one that soon 
became to her the very dearest spot in all the great 
building. In reality, she was now so eager to learn that 
she could have ** tackled,” as she called it, every branch 
of study represented in the institution at once and alto- 
gether. But Miss Montaigne would have none of this. 

‘‘ Madame has been a most successful instructor and 
she allows no overcrowding. Two studies at a time. 


A TEXT FROM GOETHE. 


169 


with an * accomplishment * is her rule. We are to take 
up arithmetic and spelling first. With music, or art, or 
what your taste decides. Now, we’ll begin. This sum 
in addition, if you please ; ” and the teacher pointed to 
the very simplest possible. 

Jessica glanced at it in contempt. 

‘‘ That ? Why that’s far easier than making out the 
‘ boys’ ' wage-list. You must be teasing me ! ” 

‘‘ No, indeed. Beginning at the root of things. That’s 
all. You may climb and grow as fast as Jack’s bean- 
stalk if you wish. I’ll help push ! ” 

Why, what a delightful person this Miss Montaigne 
was! Almost as good as another girl to talk with, and 
how like a game she made that “ hated ” arithmetic 
seem. It was a game. Played so swiftly and eagerly be- 
tween these two that before either noticed how the time 
was passing the recess hour was struck and — such a 
babel of happy voices as followed it. 

Desks were deserted, mates sought mates, Aubrey 
alone mourned sorrowful in her corner, though Natalie 
rushed into the alcove and whirled Jessica out of it, dis- 
puting with somebody across the room: 

‘‘You’re a mean, hateful girl! It is no such thing! 
She isn’t ! She’s a dear ! Aren’t you, Jessica Trent? ” 
Jessica returned the ardent hug she received with 
another as fond, then holding Natalie off demanded : 

“ Who are you quarreling with ? What did she say ? ” 
“ That top-lofty Helen Rhinelander. She calls this 
the ‘ dunce’s corner ’ and that you wouldn’t have been 
any more conspicuous if Madame had stood you on a 
stool with a cap on your head. I don’t see what’s the 


170 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

matter with Helen. She’s hateful enough all the time 
but she’s never been quite so unpleasant as since you 
came, yesterday. I — I wish she’d behave.” 

“ So do 1. What’s more I’ll make her yet ! ” 

Why — ^Jessica ! How can you ? ” asked the other 
girl, astonished, as a group of schoolmates drew near, 
anxious to know the “ new-er ” who had already so 
stirred the quiet depths of the school. 

There was a flash of “ Little Captain’s ” blue eyes, as 
she answered: 

** I don’t know just how yet but I will. I’ll make her 
so ashamed she’ll want to hide her head. Madame said 
she was a real gentlewoman, and if she is her hateful- 
ness can’t be deep. I’ll conquer her by kindness, as my 
mother says is the best way with ugly folks. That’s the 
way she did a Chinese cook we had at Sobrante, and who 
was — ^horrible. But he got over it. Nobody could be 
nicer than Wun Lung is now.” 

“ Let’s go out into the garden. The ’Mums are just 
beautiful now. Do you have chrysanthemums in Cali- 
fornia, Jessica ? ” asked another girl, slipping her arm 
about the stranger in such a friendly manner that Helen 
Rhinelander’s coldness was forgotten. 

Little Captain ” had always won liking, wherever she 
was known, because of her keen interest in other people 
and her forgetfulness of self, nor did she fail now. One 
by one, her fellow students, even from the higher forms, 
gathered about the stranger, listening to her Californ- 
ian talk” — a subject which made her tongue run glibly; 
and so graphically did she describe life at Sobrante that 
she made these New Yorkers envious of its freedom and 


A TEXT FROM GOETHE. 


171 


constant sunshine. But not a word did she speak of her 
prospective wealth; and, oddly enough, from this reti- 
cence the notion spread that she was in reality a poor 
girl. 

One of Madame’s charity pupils. The daughter of a 
former ‘ Adelphian ^ who can’t afford to pay for her. 
That’s why she’s dressed in such cheap stuff. Well, 
she’s nice. She’s real nice, even if she is the ^ stupidest 
girl in school,’ and I shall treat her just the same as if 
she were one of us,” said Rosalie Thorne, a sweet-faced 
senior who was Helen’s rival for “ honors ” and was 
greatly beloved of both teachers and mates. She was, 
also, a very conscientious person and, perceiving Helen’s 
attitude toward the “ wild Westerner ” set herself to use 
her own influence in an opposite direction. 

Thus it happened that Jessica’s coming had divided 
the school into two factions; which promptly elected 
themselves to be “ Pros ” and Cons,” and beginning 
with the toss of one haughty young head had grown like 
that veritable “ bean stalk ” to which Miss Montaigne 
had smilingly referred. 

But Jessica, the innocent cause of this disruption, took 
it lightly. Sufficient for her the fact that there were 

Pros ” enough to more than satisfy her longing for 
“ girls,” and that these were almost as admiringly affec- 
tionate as even her “ boys ” at home. So, before many 
hours passed she was so happy that she almost felt 
wicked,” remembering how desperately sad she had been 
at parting with her mother. She even questioned 
Madame Mearsom herself upon the subject: 

‘‘Dear Madame, is it right for me to be so glad? Is 


172 JESSICA teent’s inheritance. 

it like turning my back on mother and Cousin Margaret, 
and all the rest of the grown-up folks? I’m not forget- 
ting, you know. I’m not really forgetting; only there 
doesn’t seem to be room in my heart for sorrow and all 
these good times together. This is the very first time 
I ever lived with girls and I think — I think they are just 
too delightful for words ! ” 

Whereat Madame patted the little hand which had 
stolen to her shoulder and answered, emphatically: 

It is most certainly and entirely right. That is why 
you are here — to be happy. I can send no more pleas- 
ing message to Sobrante than that you are so ‘ glad.’ ” 
One thing alone really disturbed Jessica’s full content. 
That was the peculiar behavior of Ephraim Marsh. In- 
variably, when the day was fair enough for the Adel- 
phians ” to take their accustomed walks, “ Forty-niner ” 
would appear on the opposite side of the same street. He 
would march along, head erect, eyes front,” as if keep- 
ing step to some invisible band — his whole attitude as 
correctly military as he could make it. Never, by any 
possibility, did he recognize Jessica, nor answer to her 
excited hand-salutes — the only sort she was permitted 
on the street, or from that distance — and this hurt her 
sadly. More than that, he never used his visitor’s privi- 
lege of once a week, on Thursdays, from four till 
six.” 

‘^All the other girls have their friends come to see 
them, Ephy dear. Why don’t you ? ” 

He gave her no explanation, simply said, each time: 
** I’ll see.” Not for anything would he have confessed 
to her that his proud old heart had been offended by 


A TEXT FROM GOETHE. 


173 


Madame^s slowly pronounced reply to his question con- 
cerning these visits, for which his own soul hungered 
unspeakably. He only urged her to get leave to come to 
the flat as often as she could, even though such calls 
were as unsatisfactory as possible. 

** Couldn’t you come without that teaching woman 
tagged to you, 'Little Captain,’ not even once? I’d 
come for you in a hired carriage and I’d pay the taxes 
for it if it took my bottom dollar — which it wouldn’t. 
I can’t half begin to use my wages, as a teacher myself, 
and Sophia Badger-Briggs being such an equonomical 
housekeeper. I take Sophy posies, but I daren’t send 
’em to you. Them windows to your ' Adelphi ’ are al- 
ways chock full of flowers anyway.” 

" Yes. There’s a little conservatory, you know, in the 
garden. Besides the girls’ folks, the rich folks that have 
always lived in New York, send flowers. They consider 
it so ' refining ’ ; but, Ephy dear I I’d give all my year’s 
allowance just for one dear, yellow California poppy, 
instead of these ' American Beauties ’ and orchids. Never 
mind. We’ll be going home sometime and can gather 
them for ourselves, and I am, I certainly am, very, very 
happy. Why, Ephy! I’m learning so fast. I’ll be ad- 
mitted to the lowest form very, very soon. And I’m 
taking fiddle lessons. I mean violin ones. I sing, too. 
Madame says I have a very good ' organ ’ — that’s some- 
thing in my throat, you know — though I’ll never equal 
Gabriella ! That’s mother. Gabriella was the ' star pu- 
pil.’ She stood head of everything. Sometimes, when I 
get pretty tired I feel as if it were dreadful to have to 
live up to my mother! I don’t see why they don’t have 


174 : 


JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 


stars at both ends of the class, top and bottom; then I'd 
be a star, myself, without any trouble. Ephraim Marsh, 
did you know I was a dunce ? " 

“ Shucks ! No. Nor nobody knows it. 'Tisn't so. If 
you aren't the smartest " 

** No, Ephy, it’s sadly, desperately true. The things I 
don't know would fill — would fill Madame’s * unabridged 
dictionary ! ' I get almost discouraged, times ; but I do 
love to learn things. I love it. Only I can't learn them 
half fast enough. I want to get to be a ‘ star ' right 
away quick." 

This was on one of Jessica's brief visits to Granny 
Briggs's “ apartment." The girl had been corrected for 
speaking of “ flat." Miss Montaigne who had accom- 
panied her special charge was reading a book she had 
brought with her in the tiny front room, called the par- 
lor " by the proud mistress of the little establishment. 
In fact, she disliked her own present, enforced surveil- 
lance of the trustworthy girl, who had grown up under 
the faithful care of the old frontiersman; but Madame's 
rules were inflexible. Her young ladies must be at- 
tended during such calls by some employee of her own. 

Jessica suddenly remembered the young lady in the 
parlor and pushed aside the plate of Indian pudding 
which had been part of Granny's ** New England din- 
ner." 

‘‘ Oh ! dear ! I suppose I must go now. Dear Ephy, do 
stop that angry tramping up and down! The little din- 
ing-room isn't big enough for such a great old fellow as 
you to go ‘ rampagin ' in. We're going to school, both 
of us, aren't we? But, have patience, we’ll graduate 


A TEXT FROM GOETHE. 


17b 


sometime — with honors or without them, who knows? 
And then we’ll go home.” 

“ You believe we will I Why, * Little Captain,’ Fm 
saving up again’ it already. It shan’t cost anybody but 
Ephraim Marsh, one single cent for all this coming and 
going, these betwixts and betweens, and all the whole 
enduring business of living in New York till we get 
graddyated. Shucks ! What’s Sophia Badger doing 
now ? ” 

What, indeed! Could that hospitable creature, who 
had neither hesitated nor been ashamed once to offer her 
last slice of bread to a chance visitor, could she do less 
than hunt out her one plate which had a trifle of decora- 
tion about it, and heaping it with the really delicious pud- 
ding carry it into her parlor for Miss Montaigne’s 
delectation ? 

Ephraim was aghast. He was more afraid of the prim 
little ‘‘ special ” than even of the Madame herself, for the 
younger woman wore glasses ” that magnified the eyes 
behind them into something really formidable. Besides, 
however she might lay aside austerity when with her 
pupil, she assumed the most dignified of manners when 
abroad. 

That is, she had done so, heretofore. But Granny 
Briggs — even the rule-encased schoolma’am could not 
withstand her appealing face, encircled by its flapping 
cap-ruffle; and with an apparent delight she graciously 
accepted the pudding, murmuring her most correct 
Thank you.” 

In another moment the delight had ceased to be ap- 
parent and had become real. One mouthful of the 


176 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

** tasty ” dessert proved that this was something quite 
out of the common, and the pretty plate was not re- 
turned to Granny till it was empty. 

“ O Mrs. Briggs ! That was so kind of you. Your 
dainty has carried me back to the time when I went visit- 
ing my own grandmother in your New England, and her 
big kitchen with all its good things. I have enjoyed it 
more than anything I have eaten for a long, long time.” 

This was a trivial matter in itself; but it was not 
trivial in its results. Thereafter Miss Montaigne threw 
all her influence to bear in giving Jessica more frequent 
chances to meet her “ humble friends,” as Madame called 
them; and now and then to let her meet them as Eph- 
raim had desired, under his escort to and fro. 

One thing delighted his soul. Late in the year Madame 
added a riding academy to her school; or engaged one 
for certain afternoons of each week. Here the sharp- 
shooter knew his darling would shine, and she did. 

Yet her success seemed for a time but to increase the 
unfriendliness of the Con ” side of the school. The 
riding classes had been added by the solicitation of Helen 
Rhinelander, already a fine horsewoman, who, during her 
summer vacations had sometimes ridden to hounds ” 
with some fashionable house-party. She loved riding 
beyond all other exercise, and had been early taught. 
She looked for no rival in the matter; but the very first 
day, when Jessica had been admitted to the lesson, she 
saw that she might be equalled, or even eclipsed. 

That girl rides as if she were part of her horse. The 
master gave her that fractious brute of his own, as soon 
as she begged for it, thinking that the easiest way to 


A TEXT FKOM GOETHE. 


177 


take down her self-conceit; and meaning, of course, to 
keep close beside her in case of a fall. Fall? The an- 
imal couldn’t shake her off. He tried, forward and back- 
ward, sidewise and every other wise, but she stuck like a 
burr. The master was amazed. Soon he let go the 
bridle and only watched — to be ready for accident. Af- 
ter that he watched from sheer delight; and as soon as 
she had made the circuit of the ring a few times and had 
brought her mount down to a quiet pacing, he said: 
* Miss Trent, I must congratulate you. I have nothing 
to teach you.’ 

“ Then Jessica was afraid he wouldn’t let her stay in 
the class, and asked him ; and, of course, he said he was 
only too proud of the honor. Then he questioned her and 
found out that she had been put on a horse’s back be- 
fore she was out of baby-clothes and had to be held 
there, while the horse was led around; and afterward 
— * Well, afterward, I don’t remember much except a 
horse, or sometimes a burro. One has to ride in Cali- 
fornia, it’s so big, and wide, and places are so far apart ; 
and, oh 1 yes ! I forgot I I can ride an ostrich, too. King 
Zulu was the first one in America who was ever mounted, 
so the ^ boys ’ claim. He is more fun even than the swift- 
est horse ; he’s faster, you know.’ 

Fancy, Madame Mearsom, that girl talking away like 
that to our reserved master! But he liked it. He liked 
it so well, he even said : ‘ I thought I had a magnificent 
horsewoman in Miss Rhinelander, but Miss Trent, I 
fear she will have to yield the palm to you.’ ” 

O Rosalie ! I’m sorry he said that,” answered 
Madame, to whom Miss Thorne had given the above 
12 


178 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

description. ‘‘ Fve heard about this division in the school 
— our rival favorites; and though I have seemed to ig- 
nore it, it has grieved me deeply. Helen is charming, 
but for some unknown reason she appears to have taken 
a dislike to Jessica. I am very, very sorry. There should 
be no rivalry or jealousy between those two. They are 
not of the same age, they differ in all respects — I mean 
are so unlike one another — they ought to be the best of 
friends. Do what you can, dear Rosalie, to bridge this 
difference. I wish something would happen to settle 
the matter! 

Something was to happen ; but the anxious schoolmis- 
tress could not foresee that it would be in the nature of 
a tragedy. 


CHAPTER XVL 


THE SOMETHING WHICH HAPPENED. 

To solace her daughter for her chagrin in being out- 
classed by Jessica, Mrs. Rhinelander gave her a new 
horse; as handsome a creature as could be found and 

warranted kind and true.'^ 

All the other girls envied Helen her Beauty,'' ex- 
cept the “ Little Captain," now rapidly developing into 
an excellent scholar, and with her love of learning in- 
creasing all the time. She was ambitious to be that 
“ star " — ^at the top not bottom of the school — and all 
the energy of her ardent nature was put into this work. 
The result of this was that, despite all prescribed rules 
for exercise and recreation, Jessica grew thin and some- 
what careworn. 

Ephraim was swift to observe this and to devise some 
plan for remedying it. He could think of nothing better 
than to send home to the ‘‘ boys " for the finest four- 
footed creatur' in all Paraiso d'Oro." So he wrote, as 
follows : — “ The head girl to our ‘ Lady's ' school has been 
give as purty a brute as ever I laid eyes on, and ‘ Little 
Captain's ' has got to beat it. Now, Samson and John 
Benton, you put your heads together and finish up the 
job and express the creatur' 'long, double quick. Our 
girl isn't going to be down-sot, in the matter of horse- 
179 


180 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

flesh, by any trumpery New Yorker, and you see to it. 
There’s horses here, course, and good ones ; but no beast 
that hasn’t breathed the superfine air of Californy is fit 
for our 'Lady.’ Mum’s the word till I get your tele- 
grapht that ' Sobrante ’ has arrived, and then I’ll put in 
my full share of the bill. I’m getting a new 'livery’ 
made, same as Madam Dalrymple had me wear and ’t 
made me feel such a fool, first time. But if I’m to 
be ' groom ’ to anybody, at my time of life, and it ’ll 
make things a mite nicer for my girl, I’ll wear it, 
smiling. 

" I’ve hung around that riding-school where they’re try- 
in’ to teach Jessie what she’s known always, and I’ve 
made friends with the work folks. More’n that, ' Little 
Lady ’ has pointed me out to the master as her teacher at 
Sobrante, and he spoke to me as slick as molasses. Said 
I’d a pupil to be proud of and I ’lowed I had. Then, 
’cause she was so pleased to have me ’round, he up and 
asked me to ride with his classes in the Park, whenever 
I had a mind. And don’t you doubt but that ’ll be every 
time they go out, soon’s I learn what days it will be. 
And I cast an observin’ eye on the outfit of his ' assist- 
ants ’ and I’m getting my own to match. I cal’late the 
next thing he’ll be doing will be to ask me to help 
' assist,’ and that’ll be something worth while. ’Twon’t 
be on account of wages, neither, but just for the honor 
of Californy, to show him how an eighty-year-old can sit 
a horse, rheumatiz or nothing. 

" So, don’t let no grass grow under that horse’s hoofs 
till he’s shipped direct; and take it to your hearts that 
you’ll be doing the square thing by the girl we all love 


THE SOMETHING WHICH HAPPENED. 181 

if you 'tend to this here business with neatness and de- 
spatch. 

** Yours, till death and his exile ends, 

‘‘ Ephraim Marsh.” 

It was but a little more than two weeks later that, on 
a certain Thursday, ** between four and six,” Jessica had 
a visitor. 

The liveried colored man who admitted the stranger 
had doubts as to whether he should have done so, since 
the caller also wore a livery, though one not adorned by 
brass buttons. 

However, Ephraim marched boldly in and selecting a 
chair which commanded the entrance sat down to wait 
with what patience he could till Miss Trent should ap- 
pear. Other visitors were there, in the great room, and 
other pupils; all casting rather amused glances toward 
“ Forty-niner ” and wondering how such a social blunder 
had been permitted as his admission into those exclusive 
precincts. Possibly, the old man might have been 
abashed, had he observed these glances, but he did not. 
He saw nothing, heard nothing, till a beloved footstep 
sounded swiftly through the hall, and at a pace less 
decorous than Madame liked, Jessica came bounding 
into the room. 

‘‘ O, you darling Ephraim ! you did come at last, didn't 
you! How dear of you! And you see it isn’t bad. 
Now you’ll come every Thursday won’t you? But — 
but, Ephy ! How funny you look ! Why have you got 
such a queer, brown suit? Riding boots, leggings, — 
you’re exactly like one of the grooms at the academy. 


182 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


What notion possessed you? But never mind. I’m so 
glad, so glad to have you ; and I would be even in your 
old overalls from the gardening last summer.” 

Jessica sat down close to her faithful friend but she 
couldn’t repress her amusement, the frontiersman was so 
uncomfortable in his new attire, yet so full of suppressed 
excitement. With another smile she demanded: 

'‘Do explain, Ephy. If you wanted new clothes why 
didn’t you get Mr. Hale, or somebody who knows what’s 
correct, to advise you ? Even I ” 

“ Hold on, ‘ Captain.’ Come over to that window, yon- 
der!” 

With his hat in his hand, he led the way across the 
room and pointing outward, demanded : 

“ Do you see that there bay horse, that boy is leading 
up and down ? ‘ All saddled and bridled and fit for a 

Prince’?” 

“ Of course I see him. What a perfectly beautiful ani- 
mal I See him, now ! What knee action I What a neck ! 
What shapely legs I Whoever owns that creature knows 
the ‘ points ’ of a fine horse. Is it somebody’s you 
know ? ” 

“ I ’low it is. I ’low she does — know points. She’d 
ought to, being as she was raised on ’em, so to speak; 
and if you hadn’t recognized them I’d have been plumb 
disappointed. For the creatur’s yours! Arrived last 
night, overland, straight from the ‘boys’ at Sobrante, 
named ‘ Sobrante ’ himself, and waiting this minute for 
his new owner and mistress to try his paces with me as 
‘ attendant.’ That’s why this pesky livery. That’s why 
I’ve come. That’s why you go ask your Madame, to 


THE SOMETHING WHICH HAPPEITED. 


183 


once, if you can't go for a canter in the Park if Pll wager 
my own neck I’ll fetch you home safe, any time she 
names ! ” 

Jessica’s cry of delight was almost a scream. So 

unladylike,” in fact, that a caller near by elevated her 
eyebrows and remarked: 

“ What astonishing things ! That groom, that ill-bred 
girl, I am surprised at Madame.” 

** Oh ! that’s nothing. She’s our wild westerner, you 
know. One may expect any sort of behavior from her,” 
replied the young lady addressed, a Con ” of the most 
decided sort, and an admiring follower of the handsome 
Helen. 

However, Jessica had become inured to this kind of re- 
mark, which she happened to overhear, and though it 
didn’t add to her pleasure it did not greatly detract from 
it. Indeed, her heart was beating so high at thought of 
her dear “ boys’ ” remembrance of her that she could 
scarcely keep her feet from dancing; but she tried to re- 
member Madame Mearsom’s expressed desires, and with 
a low : ** Come this way ! ” to Ephraim, she led him out of 
the reception room to a smaller one at the end of the hall, 
where tradesmen sometimes waited an interview with the 
mistress of the house. 

“ This is quieter, Ephy, and we’re quite by ourselves. 
Wait just a minute. Madame is going out this afternoon 
but I’ll run and ask that permission. If she’ll only give 
it ! How happy, how happy we will be ! ” 

Already there was a glow upon the cheeks that had 
been paler than of old and Forty-niner ” felt he had 
acted wisely and well. Also, because of Jessica’s good 


184 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


record in her work and the eagerness in her face, 
Madame was graciously pleased to give the coveted 
permission and to add her congratulations on the fine 
gift. 

Two hours, only, from the time of leaving till you are 
back at the door, remember, my dear. And I hope, I 
certainly hope, you will have a most delightful ride.” 

From the windows of the reception room some watched 
the Westerner ” ride away and wondered at the ease 
with which she mounted and assumed control of an un- 
tried mount, one that was as restless and inexperienced 
in city surroundings as this beautiful creature from the 
plains. 

‘‘ O Ephy ! I feel almost, almost as if we were at home 
again, starting for a long, long ride — to Dr. Kimball’s, or 
some other far-away neighbors. If I didn’t have to wear 
this tight skirt Fd feel exactly like. Oh ! how well he 
suits me! His back is perfect. They couldn’t have 
chosen better — You dear Sobrante ! I’d like to hug you, 
and I will ! ” 

Suiting the action to the word Jessica leaned forward, 
and clasped the horse’s beautiful, arched neck, sending a 
thrill of pleasure through his equine heart. But another 
sort of thrill instantly followed. An automobile whizzed 
honking by and Sobrante promptly stood upon his hind 
feet. 

Spectators along the avenue halted in fear. The girl- 
ish rider would certainly be thrown! Only she nor 
Ephraim showed no alarm. He merely checked the hired 
animal he bestrode and which he had taken care should 
be the best in its owner’s stable, and watched. He was 


THE SOMETHING WHICH HAPPENED. 185 

ready to clasp Sobrante’s bridle, should that be necessary, 
and to use his man’s strength to bring the animal to sub- 
jection. However, this was not required. 

Jessica’s own fearlessness inspired her sensitive mount 
with confidence. Her whispered soothing words pene- 
trated his consciousness and his affectionate nature re- 
sponded to her love. 

Nothing but an ‘ auty,’ Sobrante dear ! Foolish 
things, they are not to be compared with such as you, my 
beauty; but plenty as can be. You’ll get used to them, 
directly. They can’t hurt you. Nothing shall hurt you, 
precious! Just hold your head high and proud, and dis- 
dain to look at them, you splendid fellow. Once we are 
in the Park, we’ll get to the quietest place and — Go! 
That is, we’ll pretend to go — but it won’t be as we could 
at home. Steady, there, pet. Here comes another 
* goose ’ on four wheels ! ” 

Sobrante curveted and pranced, bowed his beautiful 
head, tossed it up and down, showed every symptom of 
that “ disdain ” she requested but — did nof rise upon his 
hind legs. After that, with each succeeding moment, 
nearly, one of the offending, snorting monsters passed 
them by or met them face to face ; and by the time they 
had entered the Park gates he had become familiar with 
at least one phase of the city streets. 

Both Ephraim and Jessica were delighted with him. 

‘^He’s just as intelligent — as he looks! Some horses 
aren’t, you know. And as handsome as he is wise. Oh ! 
He’s just perfect. He’s far and away finer than that new 
‘ Beauty ’ of Helen Rhinelander’s. ‘ Beauty ’ is true to 
his name, course, but I don’t like his eye. He shows the 


186 JESSICA tkekt’s ikheritancb. 

white of it too much ; and though he pretends he doesn’t 
mind autos, isn’t a bit afraid of them, he is. Down in his 
heart he is. I’ve watched him while we were out here in 
the Park. I think the master doesn’t wholly trust that 
horse, either ; else he wouldn’t ride so close to Helen and 
leave one of his assistants to attend the beginners who 
need most care. 

^^Just to think, Ephy dear! I shan’t have to ride a 
hired horse again ! And I can hardly wait for to-morrow 
and our regular lesson. All the ' Pros ’ will be delighted 
with Sobrante; and I’d be glad to share him with them, 
if I were allowed.” 

Don’t do that, ‘ Captain,’ not yet. You’ve got to let 
him learn you, first, so he would mind your voice even 
with somebody else in his saddle. And I’ll be on hand. 
My shucks I But it will seem like old times for us to be 
riding together just as we used! Get up there, you slow 
poke ! I’ve a mind to send home again for a creatur’ of 
my own ! Then I’d be fixed ! ” 

Jessica said nothing to this; but all at once she ap- 
peared anxious for their return. So they wheeled about 
and arrived at the ‘ Adelphi ’ in such good time that 
Madame was greatly pleased and promised another out- 
ing for these two alone. 

But Jessica’s haste was not so much due to her obedi- 
ence as to a notion that had entered her head when Eph- 
raim spoke. If one horse could be shipped safely from 
Sobrante, why not two? So she spent the remainder of 
that recreation afternoon in writing to her mother and 
asking for Forty-niner ” a similar gift to her own. 
Also, in due time the letter was answered by the arrival 


THE SOMETHING WHICH HAPPENED. 187 

of another steed. Not quite so fine as Sobrante but far 
finer than any the sharpshooter could hire at the ordinary 
livery-stable; and when received his own delight was as 
great as Jessica’s had been. He had been sorely per- 
plexed between his longing for the animal and his sense 
of right. He hated debt, as had all his old employer’s 
household. He must save to pay expenses during his 
life in New York, while his little lady was achieving 
that education she desired, and for his trip home again 
when that education was accomplished. He would not 
receive a gift of money from Mrs. Trent, and Jessica’s 
allowance ” was most modest — also, generally used up 
to the last cent from quarter to quarter. But a gift of a 
horse — that was quite another matter ; and it added to the 
old man’s health as well as his pleasure. 

But long before that letter was far on its way the hour 
had arrived for the riding class to take their trip to the 
Park. It was the custom on such occasions for the 
horses to be brought to the Adelphi and the young 
ladies to start from there, with the attendant master and 
his assistant teachers. This time when they assembled, 
Helen Rhinelander first saw Sobrante, and Ephraim was 
gratified by the envious look she cast on the animal and 
on its graceful rider. 

Reining her own ‘‘ Beauty ” up to Jessica’s side, she 
inquired : 

“ Is that your own horse. Miss Trent?” 

“ Yes, indeed ! Isn’t he a dear ? The ‘ boys ’ sent him,” 
returned Sobrante’s mistress, pleased to be noticed even 
thus much by the haughty senior. 

“Hmm. He is — quite handsome. But, if he’s been 


188 JESSICA teent’s inheritance. 

reared in the — the wilds, you’ll have trouble with him. 
You should be careful.” 

“ Yes, of course. But there’ll be no trouble. I’ve had 
him out once already and though he didn’t like the auto- 
mobiles, at first, he got so he despised them after a little 
while. He thinks elevated trains are dreadful but — ^he’s 
as obedient as a horse can be. He knows me already.” 

‘‘ How absurd ! That would be according him human 
intelligence, which no four-footed beast possesses. Don’t 
be too confident.” 

Now there was nothing that would sooner arouse Jes- 
sica’s quick temper than disparagement of horses; and 
she flashed back : 

“ Indeed, some horses do possess it — or its equivalent. 
Why, I could tell you things about Sobrante animals that 
would amaze you, if you didn’t know they were true.” 

And because you told them I suppose I should know 
that ! ” retorted Helen sarcastically. I’ve often heard 
of ‘ California stories ’ and I’m not anxious for them. 
Only, take care. I’ve ridden for several years and I 
know horses are not to be trusted till after you’ve used 
them a long time. Even Beauty, here, is restless and I 
have to watch him all the time. He is intelligent, if you 
please, extraordinarily so, but he hasn’t yet learned to 
‘ despise ’ an auto, after all these weeks.” 

“ Yes, he is intelligent — to a degree. Not like So- 
brante, though ; and if you’ve ridden for years I’ve ridden 
all my life. It is you who need warning. That Beauty 
is in a vicious mood, to-day. There is evil in his eye. 
Yes, I am ready I ” 

With this response to the master’s question : “ Ready, 


THE SOMETHING WHICH HAPPENED. 


189 


young ladies ? ’’ Jessica fell into line, Ephraim beside 
her, the proudest man in the whole cavalcade, even 
though mounted on a beast the boys ” would have 
laughed at. But, as he had once ridden “ Stiflfleg ” from 
love of that beast he now bestrode this hired hack from 
affection for his “ Little Captain,” who was growing so 
fast she was outstripping that adjective “ Little.” 

The master himself took his place beside Helen Rhine- 
lander, and to that young horsewoman this was both 
pleasing and displeasing. It was flattering to be singled 
out as the only one of the class worthy such attention; 
yet, on the other hand, it suggested to onlookers that it 
was a case of precaution. 

Beauty was certainly in an ugly mood. He fretted at 
the touch of her hand on the bridle, he acted as if he 
would like to take the bit in his teeth, and bolt; and to 
three of the party, at least, the arrival at the quieter Park 
was vast relief. These three were the master, the sharp- 
shooter, and Jessica Trent. To these three a fine horse 
meant something higher than a servant or a beast of bur- 
den; he was a creature of keen perceptions and strong 
emotions. 

That morning. Beauty had been roughly groomed. 
This was unusual and painfully trying to his sensitive 
skin and temper. Then his saddle had been found de- 
fective in some slight way and another which did not fit 
had been substituted. Other stable happenings had been 
unfortunate, and Beauty took the road far from fit to be 
trusted with so valuable a burden as Helen Rhinelander. 

However, for a time, after entering the Park, he 
seemed to forget his worries, as his young mistress pres- 


190 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


ently forgot hers. To those who love it, there is nothing 
more exhilarating than a swift canter on a fresh spring 
morning, such as this ; and the spirits of the whole party 
rose to the highest. 

Suddenly from a side road, at a wild rate of speed, 
rushed a runaway automobile, tenantless, chauffeurless, 
tearing its own unguided way into the very midst of the 
horseback cavalcade. 

Ware ! Ware ! ” warned the master, shrieked the 
grooms ; while Ephraim would have planted himself 
directly in the path of the oncoming monster had not Jes- 
sica reached forward, seized his horse’s bridle and jerked 
him aside. 

“ Ephy ! you can’t stop it ! Look out, look out ! O 
Helen!” 

Beauty, like Ephraim, had planted himself in the way. 
For an instant he stood stock still, while the glaring red 
machine rushed toward his very front. The next he had 
reared and plunged and Helen was almost unseated. 

What happened after that there were some who could 
not see, for they had closed their eyes against an inevi- 
table tragedy. 

But Jessica saw, comprehended, acted. With one toss 
of her own bridle into Ephraim’s outstretched hand she 
was on the ground, had caught that of the frenzied 
Beauty and swerved him out of the road, Helen still 
clinging frightened but unharmed to her saddle. The 
next instant the automobile had dashed onward out of 
sight, but a girl in a blue habit lay huddled on the ground, 
a torn and bruised object from which they turned away 
their eyes, not daj^jng to look upon her fair, brave face — 
so ghastly white and quiet now. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


RECONCILIATION AND REVELATION. 

It was Ephraim who first recovered himself. 

Leaping from his horse, he flung both bridles to any 
hand would catch them and with a strength and agility 
due eighteen rather than eighty years, he lifted his un- 
conscious “ Little Captain ’’ in his arms and ordered : 

“ Ambulance ! St. Luke’s hospital ! ” 

Then he tenderly laid Jessica’s bleeding cheek against 
his shoulder, and with shaking hand did his utmost to 
stanch the flow of blood. For a moment he did not even 
weep, then the tears coursed down his bronzed face till 
they blinded him. 

The whole party had gathered at a small distance, 
silent, stunned, unbelieving that such a dreadful thing 
could have happened, and to her the most unselfish, most 
innocent of them all. 

“ She gave her life to save the girl who hated her ! ” 
sobbed Rosalie Thorne, and again turned her eyes 
away. 

“ Look— look — at Helen ! She seems — as if she were 
marble ! ” whispered another, feeling that even that sub- 
dued murmur were sacrilege. 

The clang of an ambulance bell broke in on that si- 
lence and, as he had done once before, poor old Ephraim 

191 


192 JESSICA Trent’s inheritance. 

mounted the steps at its rear and followed his darling 
to her fate. 

He had not heait for hope left in him. Girls could not 
twice escape such peril and live. His “ Little Captain 
was done for, she would see her beloved home no more; 
and again, as he had often felt, he realized that her com- 
ing east at all had been a grievous mistake. Then a 
strange feeling of exultation that he should be the only 
one of her boys ” who had followed her to the death 
rose within him and when he realized it, frightened him. 

“ It’s as if I was glad — ’t she’s — she’s — Hold on there, 
Ephraim Marsh! While there’s life there’s hope and if 
— if ’twas so — she’d — there wouldn’t have been this on 
that ! ” he considered, holding before him the handker- 
chief he had pressed to Jessica’s cheek, now so sadly 
stained with red. 

Of course, Jessica was not dead. Had she been, this 
story would have ended then and there; but for a long 
time her young life swayed in the balance and the skill of 
the best was brought to her aid. Her mother was noti- 
fied, for a time by hourly telegrams, then by daily ones, 
of her exact condition ; and that she did not immediately 
hasten to her daughter’s side was that she had herself 
suffered an accident of a broken limb and was helpless 
on her back. 

Ned and Luis had disappeared up the canyon and as 
they had before — imperilled their lives in the mines — so 
now a presentiment of danger to them had sent her in 
pursuit. An unwaty step, a loosened bit of rock, and her 
search was ended. She was carried home by the miners, 
two sadly repentant youngsters in her train, and for a 



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KECOKCILIATIOIT AI^D REVELATION. 


193 


time so discreet was their behavior that the ranch mis- 
tress could scarcely regret her own mischance which had 
brought this improvement about. 

Fortunately, Aunt Sally, aided by Cousin Margaret, 
was able to dispel much of the mother’s anxiety; and 
when the news came that the girl was “out of danger” 
the former made a great feast and, preparing all the 
ranchmen by a preliminary dose of “ medicine ” for any 
possible ill results, celebrated the event in royal style. 

Then she sat down and wrote a letter : 

“ My DEAR LITTLE JeSS I 

“ Your Ma has broke her leg, and a fine thing too. 
Nothin’ short of broke bones would have set them two 
boys on the road to Good-ville. Sence then they’ve been 
next door to saints. Ain’t hooked none of my pies nor 
browbeat Wun Lung. I made a supper for the ‘ boys ’ 
and all the rest the men-folks, and I tell you I made 
Wunny cook for all he was worth. I picry-ed ^em all 
’round, first, so as to carry off any indigestion they might 
get, over-eating, and it done ’em good. Even though my 
son John did say ’t he seen the most of ’em fling it on 
the ground, ’stead of into their stummicks. 

“ I’m glad you’re to that hospital, where that Sophy 
girl is; and ’twon’t do you a mite of harm to rest up a 
little from that studying. Too much book learning never 
did set well on a Trent’s digesters and Ephraim Ma’sh, he 
wrote John that you’d been kind of peaked. So ’twon’t 
hurt you. Tell them hospital folks that if they’d admire 
to have one my rising-sun or log-cabin quilts I’d admire 
just as much to send ’em. And I’ll piece as many more 
13 


194 : JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

as they’ll furnish the patches for. I spoke of that to 
Mis’ Dalrymple and all she did was laugh in that slow, 
ladylike way of hern. She’s real nice, Mis’ Dalrymple 

is. Me and her has real good times a-comparin’ notes 
about what used to be and isn’t no more. I can see, easy 
as fiddlin’, where ’tis your Ma gets her politeness. She 
was raised by Margaret Dalrymple; and you was raised 
by your Ma; and I do hope to goodness, Jessie Trent, 
that you’ll try to do them credit. Neither don’t you go 
flinging yourself against them oriymoheels, that fool 
folks have hatched out of their brains, these last years. 
I seen one. If you’ll believe me, girlie, one of ’em come 
whizzing onto this very ranch of Sobrante only last week 
that ever was. It was chock full of towerists and it 
scared the ranch horses into fits. But, worse and more of 

it. They fair set Ninian Sharp wild to own one hisself. 
He’s makin’ real good wages now, Ninian is, a-managin’ 
the mines ; and he seems to want every new-fangled thing 
a-going. Him with a world full of horses, and I thought 
he had more sense. 

Well, I’m sending you by express — John pays the 
cost — a box of home-made guava jelly, some fresh figs, 
some oranges, some — Well, I reckon a little of * some ’ 
everything ’t I could think of that would keep on so long 
a road. John, he says you could buy ’em all better and 
cheaper right there in that New York city than it’ll cost 
to send this box. But I know better. Anyhow I know 
none bought there would begin to taste as nice to you 
as these right from Sobrante. You may be gettin’ a terri- 
ble smart scholard, as Ephraim Ma’sh he wrote, but you’ll 
never get to be anything except a girl that loves her 


RECONCILIATION AND REVELATION. 


195 


home and her folk*' better than anything else in the world. 
Bless you, my lamb ! there ain’t a night nor day that I 
don’t go down on my old himkies — I mean knees — and 
ask the Good Father to take special care of you. His 
fatherless child. There’s many a heart aches for you, 
deary, and many an eye will shine — and cry, too — when 
that day comes that fetches you home. I’ve made up my 
mind to quit ‘ Boston,’ to coax my silly, sick cousin to 
come out here and we’ll build her a little bungalow to 
live in. ‘ Bungalow ’ is the new-fangled name they’re 
getting here in Californy for just plain house, or cottage. 
The world thinks it’s growin’ powerful smart, don’t it? 
There’s doin’s here, too, I tell you. We’ve got a regular 
village of houses for the miners, started already. You 
won’t know Sobrante when you get back to it. 

“ Never mind. It won’t be more’n three or four years, 
now, for you have been gone one already. Just think! 
A whole endurin’ year, and you’ve been burned to death, 
and oviymoheeltd. to death, and got lost on the streets, 
and land knows what hasn’t happened. But I’m thankful 
for the good word that come to-day ; how you’ll soon be 
back to that big school. Your Ma says that the teacher 
is going to take you and some the other scholards to 
camp out in the Airondacks this summer. I’m glad of 
it. I don’t justly know what Airondacks, or Airydoii- 
dacks, or whatever ’tis are. But I sort of sense that 
they’re partly woods and partly water and partly mount- 
ings. Them three parts put together, and you sleeping 
right out doors in a tent — What do they do when it rains ? 
— will make it seem most like Californy. 

“ Now no more till next time. I’d admire to put a 


196 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

bottle or so of picry or somethin’ in the box but John he 
won’t hear to it. He says — No, I shan’t repeat what he 
says. Not to a girl like you, ’cause it’s so sort of onre- 
spectful. I know you’ll be glad to know I’ve got four 
more quilts ready pieced and fit to put on the quiltin’- 
frames. When them are done and I get two — three more 
done I’ll nigh have reached my hundred limit, what I 
set for myself. John says what in — I mean he says what 
does anybody want of a hundred quilts, here in Californy 
with a summer climate all the year round. But John, he 
don’t know everything, even if he thinks he does. 

It is ‘ good-by ’ for sure, this time. I’ve got to stop 
writin’ and talkin’ to you — as it seems like — ’cause there’s 
some sort of goings-on out in Wunny’s kitchen. I cal’late 
them childern has been into some his messes and I can’t 
let Gabrieli’ hear ’em, for it would make her fidget. 
Everybody sends love, and don’t forget to tell the hospital 
folks about the rising-sun and log-cabin. 

Your loving, foolish, hungry-for-you, 
Aunt Sally.” 

This letter was duly read by the nurse who had charge 
of Jessica to her convalescent, and as attentively listened 
to by Sophy, Ephraim, and even Granny Briggs, herself. 
It was visitors’ day and Little Captain ” was so far re- 
covered that these now happy, cheerful callers could not 
harm her by the fatigue of conversation. The others 
laughed over it, enjoyed it, and even the sharpshooter 
somewhat ridiculed it. 

Upon which, quoth '' Sophia Badger, that was : ” 

‘‘ Now Ephraim Marsh, you ain’t half as smart as you 


RECONCILIATION AND REVELATION. 197 

think. I take that letter for just what it's worth — right 
out of the heart of one the best women the Lord ever 
made. From all you've told me about her before, and 
what her own letter tells itself, I'd * admire ' myself to 
know her. She may be queer — so are you. I’m like the 
old Quaker who said : ‘ All the world's queer except thee 
and me, Hannah, and even thee's a little queer sometimes.' 
We can't see ourselves and our own queernesses. A good 
thing, too ; but I wish there were a lot more ' Aunt 
Sallies ' scattered around the world, brightening it and 
dosing it and keeping it wholesome. Think what a differ- 
ence 'twould have made to Sophy and me if there’d been 
an ‘ Aunt Sally ' living in Avenue A when we were starv- 
ing there. No, Ephraim Marsh, you always were a 
light-headed kind of boy and you never have grown up. 
So, don't let me hear no more fun-making of that good 
woman in Californy, that I’d admire to know." 

Thus strictly corrected the dame, who had fully as- 
sumed charge of her old playmate’s mind and morals. 

To divert attention from her beloved sharpshooter, Jes- 
sica cried : 

** So you shall know Aunt Sally, Mrs. Briggs ! And 
you are right ; she is one of the best women in the world. 

I don’t know what my dear mother would ever have done i 
without her. In all her troubles and worries, mother \ 
has turned to Aunt Sally, and has always found help. | 
So, when we go home ; when Sophy, too, has finished her 
nurse's training and got her diploma; we'll all go home 
together. Sophy is to be superintendent of the hospital 
mother is to have built and we’ll none of us who love 
each other be separated again, never again. 


198 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


Oh ! the dreams IVe had, the plans I’ve formed, lying 
here just getting well. Seems if my whole life long and 
every dollar that comes into my hands must go to make 
somebody happy. Somebody — no matter who — just the 
somebody that comes nearest and the happiness can reach 
the first. Life — it makes a girl think pretty seriously 
when she knows that just the tiniest bit more of a bruise 
or a cut would have ended that life. It seems as if I 
must hurry, hurry, to make up to somebody for any mis- 
chance has come to them. I Beg pardon, nurse, what 

did you say ? ” 

That these visitors have stayed their full time ; that 
Sophy must be taken back to her own place; and that 
there is one more visitor wishing to see you. I think 
you have had enough callers as it is, but this one has 
been here nearly every day, inquiring, though not before 
asking permission to come up to your room. I think 
she is one of your schoolmates, and you must not expect 
to keep her long. Nor do you talk much. Let her talk 
and you just listen and she must not stay long.” 

The others made their prompt adieus and departed; 
Jessica remarking: “ I think it must be Rosalie Thorne. 
She’s been so kind and sympathetic. I don’t see how she 
has given so much time to calling, when she’s working so 
hard for her last examination. Only another week and 
then Commencement. Oh ! I hope I may be ‘ discharged ’ 
by that time, so I can see the girls in their pretty frocks 
and their flowers and their pride. Helen and Rosalie are 
honor girls, I know. Poor Helen. I wish she would 
learn to like me just a little bit before she goes away for- 
ever. She’s to live in Europe, Madame said, and perfect 


RECONCILIATION AiJD REVELATION. 199 

herself in music. At least, to go on with it, though no- 
body can ever ‘ perfect ’ himself I suppose. Poor Helen 1 
How near, how near she came to losing her own life that 
day! I remember I warned her about that Beauty. 
He 

“ There, my little patient. That's quite enough ‘ re- 
membering ' for now. What I want you to do is some 
forgetting, if you please, of all that is past and gone. 
Think! in another week you will be back at school, well 
and happy once more. Ah! here comes a maid with the 
young lady." 

Jessica was sitting in her pretty chair, but rose as the 
caller entered ; then promptly settled back again, while 
her outstretched arm sank slowly to her side. She was 
still weak enough to be unnerved by the sight of Helen 
Rhinelander whom her visitor proved to be and whom 
she had not seen since they two faced death together. 
Nor was she at all prepared for the strange behavior of 
the haughty senior, who hesitated on the threshold of the 
room, cast one glance toward the nurse — as if wishing 
that person elsewhere — then hurriedly crossed to Jessica's 
chair and sank on her knees beside it. 

Helen's face was streaming with repentant tears and 
her voice tremulous with profound emotion as she caught 
up Jessica's still-bandaged hand and kissed it humbly. 

O Jessica, you savior of my life! Will you forgive 
me? Can you ever, ever learn to do it? " 

** The — savior — Plelen — Why, what can you mean ? 
Why do you kneel? Why are you crying? Oh! don't 
please. Please, please, don't! It seems so queer— as if 
things were all coming to an end to have you kneel there 


200 


JESSICA TRENT^S INHERITAKGE. 


and ask me — me — to ‘ forgive you/ What in the world 
have I to forgive? It’s I should be forgiven, for I was 
angry. I was fearful angry that day, because you 
slighted Sobrante and praised Beauty. I — Yes, nurse. I 
know. I won’t talk about it, only long enough to make 
dear Helen understand.” 

It was plain enough then that Jessica either did not 
know how brave her own action had been nor that all her 
recent suffering had been the price of saving her enemy’s 
life. Understanding this, the nurse delicately slipped 
away, leaving those two young souls to find out the 
truth from one another and to make that peace which 
their words signified had not existed between them. 

Jessica, don’t you know? Is it possible that nobody 
has told you how your flinging yourself upon that vic- 
ious Beauty prevented his trampling me under his feet 
and surely saved my life? He trampled you instead and 
I feel — I feel — O Jessica ! I have been so mean, so little, 
so dastardly and hateful all along from the beginning. I 
can’t tell you how mean I feel. Can you forgive me? 
Can you ” 

‘‘ Helen, Helen ! Let’s change the question. Can you 
love me a little, tiny bit? That’s all I want in this world 
to be loved ; or what’s better, be let to love other people 
just as much as I wish. You are so beautiful, so clever, 
I’ve just longed to love you, only — only — Say, Helen, 
that you can and will now.” 

The senior’s answer was to clasp the convalescent in 
such a close embrace as satisfied forever Jessica’s longing 
in that question. 

Love you, * Little Captain ’ ? Oh ! with all my heart 


RECONCILIATION AND REVELATION. 


201 


and soul ; and to try to be somewhat like you is now my 
dearest ambition. Kiss me, Jessie, kiss me once.^* 

Not only kisses but tears commingled, to that extent 
the watchful nurse from the room beyond came back to 
her post and cut the interview short. But it was a very 
different, most radiant Helen who left that hospital room 
and repaired with her story and her good news to the 
motherly presence of Madame Mearsom. 

When she had finished that narration, she added: 

“ And now, Madame, I want you to help me find a way 
to, at least, partially repay Jessica for her suffering. I 
know about hospitals. That it is very expensive to have 
a private room and one * special ’ nurse, even one ; yet 
Jessica has had two, and sometimes three. That means, 
I suppose, that she has been in extremest danger. I want 
to help her. Will you find out for me, and arrange it as 
only your tact can, so that her pride won’t be hurt ? The 
whole bill, surgeons, nurses, room, every possible ex- 
pense ; my mother and I wish to pay it and as soon as we 
can learn how much it is. Of the larger debt — that I owe 
her my very life — I can’t speak yet. Time will show 
me some way, I hope, to prove I’m grateful for all 
that. 

Why, Madame ! You are smiling! What can I have 
said? Haven’t I offered it right? I’m glad, we’re glad, 
to do much more if you will tell us what.” 

** Helen, what has put it into your head that Jessica 
Trent needs any financial *help’?” 

“ I — I really do not know. Except that all of the girls 
think, or have been told, that she is one of your charity 
pupils.” 


202 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


Then, indeed, did Madame Mearsom laugh and 
heartily : 

My dear, that is the most absurd blunder your young 
heads ever made. Jessica Trent is what is called ‘ A 
Copper Princess.’ She is the richest pupil I have ever 
had.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


A TELLING VALEDICTORY. 

The Adelphi was transformed 

Upholsterers, florists, caterers had been so busy in all 
the main rooms that when Jessica stepped into them, on 
her return from hospital, she scarcely believed she had 
come to the right place. 

Yet she could not be mistaken, for a bevy of happy 
girls, headed by Helen Rhinelander herself, had been 
watching from the upper windows for the arrival of the 
carriage that brought her ; and these now swooped down 
upon her with all the extravagance of greeting natural to 
warm-hearted maidens. 

‘‘Jessie, you darling! So they did let you come in 
time for Commencement, after all I Only last night 
Madame bade us be prepared for disappointment, for one 
of the hospital surgeons said he feared the effect upon 
you of so much excitement. So you mustn’t get excited. 
Not the least bit in the world I ” And as a soothing 
measure, Aubrey Huntington caught her recovered 
friend around the waist and gave her a wild whirl. 

Jessica laughed, caught her breath, began to declare 
that she wasn’t — she wouldn’t be “ excited,” and had her 
sentence finished, or smothered, by a frantic hug from 
somebody else. 


203 


204 JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 

Then came Natalie with the message that : 

** Madame wants Jessica in her own private room at 
once. She’s afraid to trust her with us, I suppose, and I 
think it’s real mean to snatch her away the very minute 
she gets home.” 

Ah ; it does seem like home, really, to be among you 
all again. Only what’s been done to the rooms? They 
are so beautiful, and what a lovely, lovely world it is, 
to-day ! Seems if there were so many places to be happy 
in, so many one can call a sort of home — This, the hos- 
pital, Ephy’s flat, and precious Sobrante. I wish — Oh! 
how I wish every girl in all the world could be as happy 
as I am this minute 1 Yes, Natalie, I’m going to Madame 
right away. But I must say I wish I’d thought to ask her 
to have a thin white dress made for me, too. You all 
look so sweet and dainty.” 

They escorted her to the schoolmistress, Helen herself 
slipping her strong arm about the other’s waist, and 
clasping Jessica’s hand, that had been so brown and was 
now so thin and white, with a fervor which told how 
deep her own emotion. 

Then Madame Mearsom took her from them with a 
motherly kiss and the remark : 

“ Exercises do not begin until ten o’clock. For the 
time between, Jessie must rest quietly right here with me. 
Ah ! how well you all look. I am certainly proud of my 
girls, to-day.” 

Yet there was a ring of sadness in the teacher’s voice. 
Some of these would leave her soon, to return no more. 
They had been with her for years. She had done, or tried 
to do, a mother’s part by them and she loved them. They 


A TELLING VALEDICTORY. 


205 


loved her, too, of that she was sure; but — the young 
go away and forget, the old remain and remember. 

However, it was not this wise woman’s way to cast 
any shadows over other people’s sunshine; and it was 
now with a gay smile that she waved them all away and 
shut the door upon herself and her restored pupil. Then 
she led Jessica directly to her own capacious lounge, 
made her lie down, covered her lightly with a silken 
spread, and bade her go to sleep. 

Sleep, dear Madame ? When it’s only morning and 
IVe just come home? Why, I can’t! ” 

“ Yes, you can. I command it ; but first drink this bit 
of bouillon that the maid has brought. Commencement 
day is always an exciting one, even for the perfectly well 
and strong. You are well, too, now, but not yet strong. 
After your nap you shall be dressed and go to join your 
mates. This is the first Commencement you have ever 
attended. You will find much to interest.” 

Jessica sat up and sipped the bouillon: then lay down 
and at a fresh command obediently turned her face to 
the wall. Within five minutes she was asleep; and the 
next she knew, Madame was saying: 

“ It is almost ten o’clock. I must leave you. Maid 
Maria will help you in your toilet. All your things are 
ready in my room.” 

Jessica rose and entered the bedroom, where so few of 
the Adelphians were ever admitted, and stared in as- 
tonishment at Maria, holding up an exquisite frock of 
sheerest white, lace-trimmed and blue-ribboned in a be- 
wildering fashion that showed the touch of some master 
modiste. 


206 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


“ Oh ! how pretty ? Which of the girls’ is that ? And 
what am I to wear? My white muslin, with the two 
tucks — Oh! dear! I forgot. That was left mussed last 

time I wore it, at a rehearsal. But ” 

“ This is your own. Miss Trent. Madame said I was 
to dress you in it. It was made from the measure of your 
old frock and looks as if it would just fit. Now, if you 
please. It’s getting on to time.” 

This seemed too good to be true. All her schoolmates 
had appeared before her, garbed in white, with the col- 
ored ribbons of each class adorning them. These blue 
ones meant that she had been promoted and must be — 
“ Why, Maria, if I’m to wear this pale blue that must 
mean I’m now a third-former ! Oh, oh, oh ! ” 

** I reckon ’tis. Miss Trent. Promotions always are 
at the end of the year, which seems funny to be called 
Commencement when ’tis just the other way. Ah! such 
soft pretty hair you have. A pity they had to cut it short, 
at that there hospital ! ” 

I don’t think it a pity. Hair will grow and it’s lots 
easier brushed when short. Ah! it does fit, doesn’t it? 
What a dear, dear Madame ! How sweet and thoughtful 
of her to have it all ready without my having to ask or 
wait. It is pretty, Maria! I do look nice in it, don’t I? 
I mean — I’m not vain about it, but I’m so glad to look 
like the rest.” 

Sure ; and Madame Mearsom’s not the one to let any- 
body look different from their mates. Not she. Even 

the charity scholars have new things ” 

“ Charity scholars, Maria ? Are there such in this rich 
school ? ” 


A TELLING VALEDICTOKY. 


2or 


“ Course. Several, or some. I don't know how many. 
I only know there are, account of paying bills for 
Madame, times." 

"Which are they?" 

"Ah! there, Miss Trent! / don't know, nor nobody, 
not even the charity ones themselves. Nobody knows 
except Madame and the folks they belong to. Madame 
says to have them and to teach them is her great privi- 
lege. She's found the world a place of kindness and 
she's been successful; so she just sort of passes it on. 
A good woman is Madame; and now you're ready, and 
here come a lot of the girls to take you with them. Be 
careful. Miss Trent. Remember you’re but just getting 
well." 

What a day that followed! 

In the big hall, or largest class-room, a temporary 
platform had been erected and banked with the roses of 
that sunny June. Behind the roses sat the Faculty. Jes- 
sica had not known how large this was nor of how nota- 
ble presence till she saw this body of gentlemen arrayed 
in a group before her. In the very place of honor sat 
Madame, herself richly gowned, and far more imposing 
in appearance than she had seemed in her ordinary 
attire. 

All her assistants were near her, Miss Montaigne with 
the rest, smiling a tender welcome to her " special." 
There, too, a little apart from the rest, where the roses 
were heaped highest, their own arms fillled with flowers, 
sat the seniors, the first form girls, who were to be gradu- 
ated from this school of text-books, this day, and enter 
upon the larger school of life. 


208 


JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 


There was music, there was prayer, there was a brief 
address. But the latter was delivered in the perfunctory 
way common to such occasions and listened to with an 
attention equally perfunctory. 

It was the row of sweet girl graduates " themselves 
that alone claimed and retained the interest of everybody 
in that crowding audience. Rosalie Thorne was saluta- 
torian, and Helen, valedictorian. 

Rosalie acquitted herself well, with her own native 
modesty and sympathetic manner, and to her, at least, 
this leave taking of her old associates was a trying 
ordeal. 

It was not until the President of the Adelphi Associ- 
ation had presented the diplomas that Helen Rhinelander 
arose to perform her part. In the traditional manner of 
valedictories, she went over many of the incidents of the 
last few years, during which her own residence at the 
Adelphi had continued, and brought her essay to a close 
by a few telling sentences. 

“ The Adelphi has always been known as a center of 
great social influence for good, but it has never before 
cherished in its midst a life-saver. Now it does. There 
has come to dwell among us a girl who did not hesitate 
for the fraction of a second to offer her own life to pre- 
serve that of another, that other not her friend.” 

Helen paused and looked over the sea of faces yet 
saw but one : the flushed, embarrassed, distressed face of 
Jessica Trent; who felt that if the speaker added another 
word to those which had gone before she would surely 
sink in mortification. Helen, who, had now professed to 
love her! Helen to do this horrid thing! To hold her 


A TELLING VALEDICTORY. 


209 


up to the gaze of all these strangers because she had 
done — Well, what anybody would have done, in the same 
moment and danger ! 

But she need not have feared. Helen was neither un- 
kind nor indelicate, but she had a purpose in her speech 
and kept on her way to disclose it, without so much as 
once again glancing Jessica's way. Neither, to that 
young person's infinite relief, did anybody else. The 
orator's reference had been too impersonal, Jessica looked 
so exactly like all the other maidens in their fine attire, 
that nobody not in the secret suspected who was meant 
nor what was coming. 

When one has a heroine for a neighbor, one naturally 
looks up to that person and wishes to please her. Our 
life-saving, life-sacrificing heroine had often expressed 
a certain wish. We have all heard it, ignored it, or for- 
gotten it, until her brave act reawakened a desire to 
gratify her. 

** Once, it seems, she visited a certain poor quarter of 
this city where little children swarmed in the gutters and 
wretched mothers were forced by ill-paid toil to neglect 
these helpless little ones. They have been forgotten by 
the rest of us ; tlieir desperate poverty has mocked at our 
abundance; there has been none to give them a thought, 
except our young heroine whose repeated assertion has 
been : ‘ When I grow up, if I can in any way get the 
money, I will build homes for such poor babies. They 
shall have big airy rooms with kind nurses to attend them. 
They shall have plenty of toys, plenty of toys, plenty of 
everything to make them grow up good and not wicked. 
How can they help being wicked, living as they do?' 

14 


210 


JESSICA TREITT’S INHERITANCE. 


So she has often talked and we have listened, as to the 
dreams of a child, unknowing whereof she spoke. 

“ All that is changed. The girl who would lay down 
her life for another is not a dreamer, she is a practical 
Christian. And now I, whose life was that one saved, 
desire to gratify her wish, her dream, if you please, to 
make it happy reality. I will be one to start a home for 
those gutter babies, regretting only that I cannot ac- 
complish the work without asking help from others, and 
I do it for love of this dear, dreaming heroine. 

‘‘To build a home and equip it for the children of 
Avenue A and its swarming tenements I now open a sub- 
scription list and head the same with five thousand dollars. 
Who comes next ? ” 

Jessica was no longer abashed nor self-conscious. All 
her heart was in the scene that ensued, when Madame 
followed that eloquent appeal with her own subscription 
of five thousand. She was well known as a fairly rich 
woman and, in proportion to her means, for an extremely 
liberal one. Therefore, nobody except the “ heroine ** her- 
self was greatly surprised by her action : but there were 
others in that rose-adorned hall who loved Madame and 
had been trained by her. Old pupils that were now, some 
of them, growing gray-headed women, but who still 
reverenced their old instructress and followed where 
she led. 

“ Two thousand,^' said one. 

“ Ten. Put me down for ten thousand. Miss Rhine- 
lander,*' another. 

“ Even one thousand will help. It takes a heap of 
money to build a substantial “ home ” in this city and I’d 


A TELLING VALEDICTOEY. 


211 


like to make it more. But my subscription is, for the 
present, one thousand dollars. Have you my name cor- 
rect, Miss Rhinelander,” cried still a third. 

Experienced persons say that sympathy goes in waves. 
} Many a big sum has been raised by the sympathetic wave 
set in motion just as this one has been; and, before the 
benediction was pronounced over that assembly, sufficient 
money had been guaranteed to make the dream of Jessica 
Trent a future reality. 

As for that happy girl, she could not at all realize this 
fact, though her fancy had again returned to the pitiful 
small faces which she had never forgotten and always 
hoped to help. Not till Helen sought her and drew her 
into a quiet spot did she begin to understand. 

** You see, Jessica dear, I thought, well I thought you 
were a ‘ charity ’ and I told Madame that I wanted to pay 
for all your stay in the hospital. Then she told me that 
you were, or would be, a great deal richer than any of us ; 
and she suggested that if I wanted to please you I could 
best do it by furthering some of your * dreams ’ about 
other people. Then I remembered hearing the girls talk 
of your being so touched by the Avenue A babies, and 
I hoped that since I couldn’t do anything for you, person- 
ally, I might for them. That’s all. My part is a thank- 
offering. I think all the rest is pure charity. Are you 
glad?” 

Glad, Helen ? I’m so glad I can hardly breathe. And 
I can almost hear my mother saying: ‘ Just a link in life’s 
chain, Jessica.’ I, Buster I mean, ran away and I went 
to Avenue A. Just a little thing like that, yet out of it 
came — all this! Oh! isn’t it grand? isn’t it beautiful just 


212 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


to be alive, helping in the ‘ chain,’ seeing the happiness 
grow! Oh! I thank you, Helen, more than words can 
tell. And — ^and how soon do you think that home can be 
built? Do you suppose I’ll see it done before I, too, 
graduate ? I can hardly wait till I get a chance to write 
home to my mother and ask her to put her own name 
down on that list. She will, she’ll help. O Helen! 
What a happy day this is ! ” 

“ Yes. But a sad one, too. Just as I begin to know 
you I must lose you. Even now, within this hour. My 
mother is waiting — Good-by, good-by ! ” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE DREAM AND THE REALITY. 

Thus ended Jessica Trent’s first year at school. It 
was the forerunner of others so like it that no record 
is needed. There were summer vacation trips in various 
directions, visits to the homes of schoolmates, and one 
year — the third of her absence from Sobrante — was 
spent in Europe. 

The intimacy with Aubrey and Natalie begun on her 
entrance to the Adelphi, continued through all their 
mutual course and at last the time came when they, too, 
were to be graduated; strangely enough, Aubrey with 
first honors and our heroine with none. She wrote 
home 

“ Dear Mother : 

** You’re going to be dreadfully disappointed in me, I 
know, and I wish, I wish I could make it otherwise. But 
I can’t. I think all that feverish energy of the first year 
was but a * spurt,’ as rowers say. It came from shame. 
But as soon as I had picked up enough to keep even with 
the girls of my own age I couldn’t tear ahead and climb 
any more of that ‘bean stalk’ dear Miss Montaigne 
213 


214 


JESSICA TRENT’S INHERITANCE. 


used to talk about. Poor thing ! She feels a deal worse 
about my stupidity than I do. She thought she had 
found a genius to instruct when she first took hold of my 
brains, but she made a mistake. 

‘‘ I can sing — a little. I can fiddle, or violin, enough to 
make it pleasant for the ' boys ’ when I get home. I can 
sew a seam and Pve never forgotten Aunt Sally’s part- 
ing injunction to ‘ keep my stockings mended.’ I can 
set a table, I can entertain a guest, I’ve been through the 
cooking class and can do an omelet or a Welsh rarebit to 
a turn. I’ve studied banking and economy till I think, 
T hope, I can take care of a good deal of your business; 
or, at least, can see that nobody carries it on badly. 

I can trim a bonnet, I can make a gown, and I can 
wash fine laces. Aubrey says she doesn’t see what 
Madame’s pupils need of such ' accomplishments,’ but 
Madame, who is wise, says one never can tell what one 
may or may not need to know. Anyway, it was her place 
to give us an all around education and she’s done her best 
for us. 

I can speak French and German well enough to act 
as interpreter on our trip abroad, and I’ve hammered 
enough Latin into my head to understand Botany and a 
bit of mineralogy. But I don’t yet see how long it would 
take Mr. A, working so many hours a day to be as smart 
as Mr. B, working some other time. Arithmetic isn’t my 
strong point. 

** In brief, dearest mother, you’ll find your girl is just 
a plain, home-loving, people-loving, glad-to-be-alive- 
and-a-link-in-the-chain sort of creature; and thus fore- 
warned you’re not to be so greatly, greatly disappointed. 


THE DREAM AMD THE REALITY. 


215 


if you please. Fm not a * star/ as you were ; not even 
that bottom-of-the-class-one I sometimes aspired to be. 

“ Your room is all ready. You are to stay right here 
at the Adelphi while you are in town. Madame, my sec- 
ond mother, will hear of no other arrangement ; and, dear, 
she has promised she will accept your invitation to go 
home with us to Sobrante and stay all summer. 

Last evening we went to a sort of farewell reception 
at the ' Adelphi Home for Children,’ our blessed sanctu- 
ary for the little ones over on Avenue A. As I looked 
at that great building, with all its fine appointments, its 
comfort and its hosts of happy babies, I got — as I used 
to say when I was a baby myself — ‘ all chokey up.’ And 
I sighted backward along the ‘ chain ’ to that far-away 
afternoon when Buster laid its corner stone, so to speak. 
Knocking down one little maid from Avenue A was the 
real beginning of things. 

You’ll be in time for Sophy’s graduation, too. She 
is so strong and well now, and such an ideal nurse. 
They’re going to miss her dreadfully at St. Luke’s which 
has been her home so long. The Superintendent told me 
there was nobody who could manage a fractious patient 
with the skill and tenderness of our dear Sophy. She’s 
the real honor girl of our family. It seems to me there 
isn’t anything in the realm of nursing that she hasn’t 
conquered. The head surgeon says she could even per- 
form one of those fearful * operations ’ if necessary, 
though I hope it never will be. 

You should see the darling’s pride in her new, white 
linen uniforms. All her old blue gingham, ‘ probationer ’ 
ones she is leaving for any other girl who wants to be a 


216 


JESSICA TEENT’S inheritance. 


nurse and hasn't money for her clothes. You'd think it 
was bridal finery to see Sophy handle those garments: 
see her fondle the spotless aprons and dainty caps; and 
hear her murmur : ‘ At last, at last ! I am authorized and 
free to do for others what has been done for me ! ' She 
looks so pretty, so earnest, so noble, that I’m sure some 
of our ‘ boys ’ will want to break a bone or two just to 
have her attend them. 

“ I’ve paid my last visit, too, to Granny Briggs in her 
apartment. She is as happy as Sophy and as proud, but 
far more weighed down with the cares of life. ‘ What 
will I do with this here painted plate, what Miss Mon- 
taigne first et Indian puddin’ off ? ’ ‘ Them granite 

pots ’t Ephraim Marsh bought, and don’t need scourin’ 
all the time, I certain can’t leave them behind to be 
thrown into a rubbish heap ! ’ Ephraim sits and chuckles 
and says that he too, * at last, is on the road to freedom. 
Sophia Badger that was has badgered the life out of him 
'cause he’s so forgetful and will eat stuff no man of his 
age ought to, though it’s never hurt him a mite. Fire 
the whole mess of trash into the garbage box, Sophia, 
and let the poor ash-man get the benefit of 'em. We 
don’t need no New York truck on our ranch, Sophia. 
We’re going home to Sobrante.' 

“ The dear old fellow is as happy as a child ; but, mother 
darling, there’s a lump in my throat every time I hear him 
say that sweet word ' home.’ He is going. He must 
hold out till he gets there and maybe, oh! maybe, the 
* superfine air of Californy, where folks live to be a hun- 
dred and fifteen years old, some of ’em,’ may put that 
new life into his veins that he anticipates. But there are 


THE DREAM AND THE REALITY. 


217 


moments wHen my eyes fill looking on his blessed, honest, 
rugged face and I see how worn and thin it is. * Sophia 
Badger ' sees the change in him, as well. She has never 
said so and I would not ask her if she did. I couldn’t 
bear to hear my own fear put into words. She merely 
cossets him and feeds him and scolds him more than 
ever; yet does it all with that maternal smile that makes 
my heart ache. The two poor, dear old creatures ! Who 
still talk of their childhood * scrapes ’ in ‘ Cawnco’d ’ as 
if it were but yesterday. Ephraim has sent up-river for 
Buster and that happy broncho is also ready for his 
homeward trip. 

“ Altogether, we shall be, must be a merry, merry 
party; and I can hardly realize that I have come to a 
time when I am writing my very last letter to you. Be- 
fore another one could reach you we shall be together, 
face to face. 

“ Till then, and hoping you are duly prepared for the 
girl you haven’t seen in five long years — just because you 
thought it wiser and better for me that I should mature 
outside the family garden — I bring this long one to a 
close. 

“ Your daughter, 

‘‘ Jessica.” 

Commencements are much alike. This one that wit- 
nessed Jessica Trent’s graduation, might have been any 
other of her whole school course, so far as outward 
appearances went. There were the same artistic decora- 
tions, the same superabundance of flowers, the same 
well-spread tables. There was almost the same old 


218 


JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 


crowd of eager spectators so like were these to the 
gatherings gone before. 

But there was always, as there always will be, a great 
difference to the maidens most concerned. 

To Jessica's vast astonishment, she had been chosen 
valedictorian of her class ; and with a fine ambition that 
here, at least, she might make her mother proud, she had 
worked night and day on her essay and had brought it 
to what even Madame pronounced a fine and graceful 
climax. Jessie had a gift of speech and she had a gift of 
pen ; but — Let us not forecast ! 

Almost the same Faculty occupied the platform. Al- 
most the same teachers sat beside the stately Madame; 
and almost the same group of white-clad maidens waited 
with fluttering hearts for their bit of sheepskin which the 
President would soon present them. 

Mrs. Trent was there, grown scarcely old in these past 
years, because of the greater ease and luxury of her life. 
Madam Dalrymple, in shimmering silk and coiffure quite 
as bewildering as when her yolmg second cousin twice 
removed " had first beheld her. She had made the long 
trans-continental journey — “ I left my rheumatism be- 
hind me in that dry air of California ” — to witness a 
scene which would bring back that one when Gabriella, 
beloved of her heart, had also graduated. She even 

Poohs! " at that mother's disappointment in that Jessica 
is not a world-famous scholar. Why, what do you 
want, Gabriella? The child is a gentlewoman — one 
glance shows it — and the only ‘ career ' to which she 
need aspire is to make our home a real home, back there 
at Sobrante." Leave the scholarship to Ned. That boy 


THE DREAM AND THE REALITY. 


219 


has reached the necktie stage of his existence and begins 
to think about his hair and finger nails. He has brains 
enough, else he'd never have been so mischievous. Don't 
worry because Jessica isn’t a mannish woman, but be 
content. For my part, I never saw a more beautiful, 
wholly satisfactory girl. You couldn’t hold a candle to 
her even in your earliest youth; and now you see how 
good my judgment was. If I hadn’t fairly nagged you 
into sending her to me you’d never have seen such a 
picture as that yon,” finished the delighted dame, nodding 
her white pompadour stage-ward. 

Ephraim was there, Mrs. Briggs and Sophy beside 
him; all in that same front row with Mrs. Dalrymple 
and Gabriella; also a young lad who is taking his first 
peep at life outside his home and whom the valedictorian 
can scarcely believe is the scampish little ‘‘tacker” she 
remembers, even Ned. 

** Now, Jessie. Do us credit,” whispers Miss Mon- 
taigne, as the fateful moment arrives and the girl steps 
forward to repeat the speech she has so carefully memor- 
ised. She is a dream of beauty,” as Madam Dalrym- 
ple has declared. Her movements are graceful and easy. 
She wears her exquisite graduation gown as uncon- 
sciously as if it were her ordinary school frock, and that 
Madame has, also, said is to be a mark of gentlehood. 
“ Such people are clothed — they never wear their 
clothes.” 

Jessica bows, very prettily, very low. She opens her 
lips and a word or two issues thence. Then, most un- 
fortunately, she lifts her eyes toward a group of other 


220 


JESSICA TRENT'S INHERITANCE. 


girls, with whom she has joyed and sorrowed during the 
close intimacy of these past years and — disaster! 

Her eyes fill, her face flushes, pales, is covered by her 
slim white hands — and Jessica Trent has ignominiously 
broken down. A fierce sob escapes her — is taken up and 
echoed by one, a half-dozen, all of those white throats of 
her beloved mates, and ^hey are all weeping in concert. 
Even some of the audience, moved by a profound sym- 
pathy, shed a few tears in concert ; and — Commencement 
is over ! 

** Well, there generally is some unusual happening to 
mark the close of our year together, but we’ve never had 
just this sort of thing before; and it’s all because we 
never before graduated a girl whose whole nature was 
just love!'' said poor Miss Montaigne, whose own heart 
was heavy at this parting. 


Sobrante ? 

Yes, at last. The special or private car, also the 
** Sobrante,” is slowly approaching the terminal of the 
railway — the Sobrante mines. It is also an observation 
car and its open spaces are crowded with such eager peo- 
ple as never before journeyed over that route. Old faces, 
young faces, but never a sad nor lonely face among 
them ; and happiest of all is Jessica Trent’s. 

With trembling lips she questions Ninian Sharp as she 
has used to do in the days before she was a ** young 
lady”; and he who has met her and all the returning 
party at Los Angeles answers as swiftly as she asks : 


THE DREAM ASTD THE REALITY. 221 

“ What is that big stone building crowning the mesa, 
old Pedro’s mesa ? ” 

Our new St. Luke’s hospital ; over which your friend 
Miss Sophy is to rule.” 

That spire ? Is that a church, right here at our own 
dear home ? ” 

“ Yes. The Church of the Good Shepherd — Who has 
cared for His unfortunates,” replies the mine manager, 
lifting his hat. 

‘‘ That long low building, in the valley, where the 
raisin-grapes used to grow ? ” 

**Ah! you haven’t forgotten localities, I see. That’s 
our library, reading-room, bowling alley, amusement 
place in general.” 

** That other, of red brick with white trimmings ? ” 

Our school ; one of the best equipped and officered in 
southern California.” 

** Those cottages ? Such rows and rows of them, each 
with its bit of green about it — Who lives in them? 
Where have the people come from? you must have irri- 
gated well and lavishly to make so much verdure here.” 

“ The miners’, carpenters’, and farmers’ homes. Yes, 
we’ve water now and to spare. We tapped it in the 
mountains, an ever-constant flow, and water you will 
remember. Miss Jessica, is a * mine ’ in itself to Cali- 
fornia.” 

Everywhere, everywhere, such changes and so fine ! 
Yet it almost grieves me to come home and find it all so 
changed. But that is wrong. It is the dream of my dead 
father’s life made blessed reality. So, I am glad after 
all, and I feel that from somewhere he is looking down 


JESSICA TREI^T’S inheritance. 


on me returning, bidding me take up and carry on the 
work he planned, that you have organized, and that old 
Pedro’s gift made possible. 

“ Ah ! here we are ! And this is unchanged ! This 
dear old * house ’ is not one bit different from my mem- 
ory of it ! Home, home, at last ? ” 

As she sprang from the car and sped across the little 
intervening space which yet remained, there issued from 
that cottage door a plump old lady, decorated everywhere 
with strips of flying patchwork, her glasses on top of her 
old gray head, and a bottle in her hand, which so shakes 
with delight that the vial falls to the ground and breaks. 

“ Why, Jess — All that good picry — Jessie, my love, my 
lamb! Luis! Wun Lung! John, Marty, Ephraim 
Ma’sh — man alive you needed that medicine, you needed 
it powerful, and it’s wasted! Never mind. I’ve got more 
and after supper — Wun Lung, do you dast tell me you 
come out and left them ‘ sally luns ’ to scorch ? Back into 
that kitchen and serve up that supper or I’ll cut your pig- 
tail off!” 

With this dire and oft-repeated threat the Chinaman 
disappeared, salaaming and katowing to the last, as he re- 
treated backward and fixed his admiring gaze upon the 
girl he had known and always loved. 

But why seek to describe that joyful homecoming? 
Those who have home-loving hearts may well imagine 
it for themselves; and those who have not would not be 
interested. 

But never was there, could there be, a more grateful 
heart than Jessica Trent’s, as she stood that night before 
her own old, open window and looked out over that vast 


THE DREAM AHD THE REALITY. 


223 


estate of which she was to be the chatelaine ; while from 
her lips there rose the humble, happy cry ; 

** O Thou dear God Who givest all, make me to be 
worthy of my Inheritance 1 


THE END. 



THE CREAM OF JUVENILE HCTION 


^ BOYS’ OWN 
^ LIBRARY^ 

A Selection of the Best Boohs for Boys by the 
Most Popular Authors 

^r^HE titles in this splendid juvenile series have been selected 
vy with care, and as a result all the stories can be relied 
upon for their excellence. They are bright and sparkling; not 
over-burdened with lengthy descriptions, but brimful of adven- 
ture from the first page to the last — in fact they are just the 
kind of yarns that appeal strongly to the healthy boy who is 
fond of thrilling exploits and deeds of heroism. Among the 
authors whose names are included in the Boys’ Own Library 
are Horatio Alger, Jr., Edward S. Ellis, James Otis, Capt. Ralph 
Bonehill, Burt L. Standish, Gilbert Patten and Frank H. Con- 
verse. 


SPECIAL FEATURES OF THE 
BOYS' OWN LIBRARY ^ 

All the books in this series are cop3nTghted, printed on good 
paper, large t3rpe, illustrated, printed wrappers, handsome cloth 
covers stamped in inks and gold — fifteen special cover designs. 

i46 Titles — Fticc^ per Vottime» 75 cents 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price 
by the publisher, 

DAVID McKAY, 

6J0 SO. WASHINGTON SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA, PA. 

( 1 ) 


HORATIO AI^OHR, Jr. 

One of the best known and most popular writers. Good, clean, 
healthy stories fior the American Boy. 

Adventures of a Telegraph Boy 
Bean. Dunham 
Erie Train Boy, The 
Five Hundred Dollar Check 
From Canal Boy to President 
From Farm Boy to Senator 
Baekwoods Boy, The 

C. B. ASH1.HY. 

One of the best stories ever written on hunting, trapping and ad- 
venture in the West, after the Custer Massacre. 

Gilbert, the Boy Trapper 

AXP^IB ASHMORB. 

A splendid story, recording the adventures of a boy with smugglers. 
Smuggler’s Cave, The 


Mark Stanton 
Hed Nevrton 
Hew York Boy 
Tom Brace 
Tom Tracy 
Walter Griffith 
Young Acrobat 


CAPT. RABPH BOXBHIBB. 

Capt. Bonehill is in the very front rank as an author of boys^ 
stories. These are two of his best works. 

Heka, the Boy Conjurer Tour of the Zero Club 


WABTER F. BRUNS. 

An excellent story of adventure in the celebrated Sunk Lands of 
Missouri and Kansas. 

In the Sunk Bands 


FRANK H. CONVERSE. 

^ This writer has established a splendid reputation as a boys’ author, 
and although his books usually command $1.25 per volume, we ofter 
the following at a more popular price. 


Gold of Flat Top Mountain 
Happy-Go-Lucky Jack 
Heir to a Million 
In Search of An Unknown Bace 


In Southern Seas 
Mystery of a Diamond 
That Treasure 
Voyage to the Gold Coast 


BAVJLD McBJVY, Publisher, Philadelphia. 

(ii) 


HARRY COI^UXC^WOOR. 

One of England’s most successful writers of stories for boys, 
best story is 

Pirate Island 


Hifl 


OHORGE^ II. COOMHR. 

Two books we highly recommend. One is a splendid story of ad- 
venture at sea, when American ships were in every port in the world, 
and the other tells of adventures while the first railway in the Andes 
Mountains was being built. 

Boys in the Forecastle Old Man of the Mountain 


WIEMAM RAI^XON. 

Three stories by one of the very greatest writers for boys. The 
stories deal with boys’ adventures in India, China and Abyssinia. 
These books are strongly recommended for hoys’ reading, as they con- 
tain a large amount of historical information. 

Tiger Prince War Tiger 

White Elephant 


HOWARD S. HHHIS. 

These books are considered the best works this well-known writer 
ever produced. No better reading for bright young Americans. 

Arthur Helmuth Perils of the Jungle 

Check No. 2134 On the Trail of Geronimo 

From Tent to White House White Mustang 


GHORGH MAICVIHHH FENN. 

For the past fifty years Mr. Fenn has been writing books for boys 
and popular fiction. His books are justly popular throughout the 
English-speaking world. We publish the following select list of his 
boys’ books, which we consider the best he ever wrote. 

Commodore Junk Golden Magnet 

Dingo Boys Grand Chaco 

Weathercock 


hivsig:n charkh fitch, ij. s. n. 

A graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, and tho- 
roughly familiar with all naval matters. Mr. Fitch has devoted him- 
self to literature, and has written a series of books for boys that every 


DAVID McItAY, Publisher, Philadelphia, 

(iii) 


young American should read. His stories are full of very interesting 
Information about the navy, training ships, etc. 


Bound for Annapolis 
CUf, the la'aval Cadet 


Cruise of the Training Ship 
From Port to Port 
Strange Cruise, A 


MURRAY ORAYDOIV. 


• An author of world- wide popularity. Mr. Graydon is essentially a 
friend of young people, and we offer herewith ten of his best works, 
wherein he relates a great diversity of interesting adventures in various 
parts of the world, combined with accurate historical data. 

Butcher of Cawnpore, The In Barracks and Wigwam 


Camp in the Snow, The 
Campaigning with Braddock 
Cryptogram, The 
From Bake to Wilderness 


In Fort and Prison 
Jungles and Traitors 
Bajah’s Portress, The 
White King of Africa, The 


WEUT. FRBRBRICK OARRISOX, U. S. A. 

Every American boy takes a keen interest in the affairs of West 
Point. No more capable writer on this popular subject could be found 
than Lieut. Garrison, who vividly describes the life, adventures and 
unique incidents that have occurred in that great institution — in these 
famous West Point stories. 

Off for West Point On Guard 

Cadet’s Honor, A West Point Treasure, The 

West Point Bivals, The 


RHADOIV mUU. 

^ The hunt for gold has always been a popular subject for considera- 
tion, and Mr. Hill has added a splendid story on the subject in this 
romance of the Klondyke. 

Spectre Gold 


HHIVRY RARRISOX UEWIS. 

Mr. T^ewis is a graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis, and 
has written a great many books for boys. Among his best works are 
the following titles— the subjects include a vast series of adventures 
in all parts of the world. The historical data is correct, and they 
should be read by all boys, for the excellent information they contain. 

Centreboard Jim Ensign Merrill 

King of the Island Sword and Pen 

Midshipman Merrill Valley of Mystery, The 

Yankee Boys in Japan 


P^Vn> McKAYj Publisher, Philadelphia. 

(iv) 


UKrX. I.OUXSBHRRY* 


A Beries of books embracing many adventures under our famous 
<M»val commanders, and with our army during the War of 1812 and 
the Civil War. Founded on sound history, these books are written 
for boys, with the idea of combining pleasure with profit ; to cutivate 
a fondness for study — especially of what has been accomplished by 
our army and navy. 


Cadet Kit Carey 

Captain Carey 

Kit Carey’s Protege 

liieut. Carey’s liuck 

Out With Commodore Decatur 


Randy, the Pilot 
Tom Truxton’s Bchool Days 
Tom Truxton’s Ocean Trip 
Treasure of the Golden Crater 
Won at West Point 


BROOKS McCORMlCK. 

Four splendid books of adventure on sea and land, by this well- 
known writer for boys. 

Giant Islanders, The Nature's UToung Nobleman 

How He Won Rival Battalions 


WAIvXKR MORRIS. 

This charming story contains thirty-two chapters of just the sort of 
school life that charms the boy readers. 

Bob Porter at Lakeview Academy 


SXAIVI^HY XORRIS. 

Mr. Norris is without a rival as a writer of “Circus Stories'’ for 
boys. These four books are full of thrilling adventures, but good, 
wliolsome reading for young Americans. 

Phil, the Showman Young Showman’s Pluck, The 

Young Showman’s Rivals, The Young Showman’s Triumph 


JAMES K. ORXON. 

When a boy has read one of Lieut. Orton’s books, it requires no 
urging to induce him to read the others. Not a dull page in any of 
them. 

Beach Boy Joe Secret Chart, The 

Hast Chance Mine Havens with the White 

Squadron 


DAVID McKAY, Publisher, Philadelphia. 

(v) 


JAMBS OXIS. 


Mr. Otifl is known by nearly every American boy, and needs no in« 
troduotion here. The following copyrights are among his best : 


Chased Through IJorway Unprovoked Mutiny 

Inland Waterways Wheeling for Portuno 

Beuben Green’s Adventures at Yale 


OIBBBRX PAXXEN. 

Mr. Patten has had the distinction of having his books adopted by 
the U. S. Government for all naval libraries on board our war ships. 
While aiming to avoid the extravagant and sensational, the stories 
contain enough thrilling incidents to please the lad who loves action 
and adventure. In the Eockspur stories the description of their Base- 
ball and Football Games and other contests with rival clubs and teams 
make very exciting and absorbing reading ; and few boys with warm 
blood in their veins, having once begun the perusal of one of these 
books, will willingly lay it down till it is finished. 


Boy Boomers 
Boy Cattle King 
Boy from the West 
Bon Kirke’s Mine 


Jud and Joe 
Kockapur Nine, The 
Kockspur Eleven, The 
Bookspur Bivals, The 


SX. OBORGB RAXMBOBLNB. 


Mr. Bathbome’s stories for boys have the peculiar charm of 
dealing with localities and conditions with which he is thoroughly 
familiar. The scenes of these excellent stories are along the Florida 
coast and on the western prairies. 


Canoe and Camp Fire 
Paddling Under Palmettos 
Bival Canoe Boys 
Sunset Banch 


Chums of the Prairie 
Young Bange Biders 
Gulf Cruisers 
Shifting Winds 


ARXHUR SBWEBB. 

An American story by an American author. It relates how a 
Yankee boy overcame many obstacles in school and out. Thoroughly 
interesting from start to finish. 

Gay Dashleigh’s Academy Days 


BAVID McKAY, Publisher, Philadelphia, 

(Vi) 


CAmr. DAVID SOUTHWICK. 

An exceptionally good story of frontier life among tlie Indiana in 
the far West, during the early settlement period. 

Jack Wheeler 


The Famous Frank Merriwell Stories. 

BURX JU. sxa?;dish. 

No rnedem series of tales for boys and youths has met -with any- 
thing like the cordial reception and popularity accorded to the Frank 
Merriwell Stories. There must be a reason for this and there is. 
Fi-ank Merriwell, as portrayed by the author, is a jolly whole-souled, 
honest, courageous American lad, who appeals to the hearts of the 
boys. He has no bad habits, and his manliness inculcates the idea 
that it is not necessary for a boy to indulge in petty vices to be a hero. 
Frank Merriwell’ s example is a shining light for every ambitious lad 
to follow. Six volumes now ready : 

Frank MerriwelPs School Days Frank MerriwelFs Bravery 
Frank Merriwell’s Chums Frank MerriwelFs Hunting Tour 

Frank Merriwell’s Foes Frank Merriwell’s Baces 

Frank Merriwell’s Trip West Prank Merriwell’s Sports Afield 
Frank Merriwell Down South Frank Merriwell at Yale 


VICXOR SX. CXAIR. 

These books are full of good, clean adventure, thrilling enough to 
please the full-blooded wide-awake boy, yet containing nothing to 
which there can be any objection from those who are careful as to the 
idnd of books they put into the hands of the young. 

Cast Away in the Jungle Prom Switch to Lever 

Comrades Under Castro Little Snap, the Post Boy 

For Home and Honor Zig-Zag, the Boy Conjurer 

Zip, the Acrobat 


MAXXHEW WDIXE, JD. 

Good, healthy, strong books for the American lad. No more in- 
teresting books for the young appear on our lists. 

Adventures of a Young Athlete My Mysterious Fortune 

Eric Dane Tour of a Private Car 

• Guy Hammersley Young Editor, The 

AltXHUR. M. WINKIEXD. 

One of the most popular authors of boys’ books. Here are three 
of his best. 

Mark Dale’s Stage Venture Young Bank Clerk, The 

Young Bridge Tender, The 


DAVID McKAY, Publisher, Philadelphia. 

(vii) 


GAYI^H 

This very interesting story relates the trials and triumphs of a 
Young American Actor, including the solution of a very puzzling 
mystery. 

Young Actor, The 


ERXESTT A, YOUI^G. 

This book is not a treatise on sports, as the title would indicate, but 
relates a series of thrilling adventures among boy campers in the 
woods of Maine. 

Boats, Bats and Bicycles 


DAVID McKAY, Publisher, Philadelphia. 



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